Now Nothing But Laughter
by Rambling Drabble
Summary: A rational!Hiccup story. After the events of IHHS, Hiccup finds himself on a precarious perch when otherwise welcome changes start affecting his body and mind. Will he be able to bring peace to the archipelagos when he can't do the same for himself? NOTE: NOT AN OFFICIAL SEQUEL TO IHHS! The official sequel is called Echoed Songs and can be found on Rift-Raft's profile page.
1. Chapter 1: The Vikings Have Their Tea

Disclaimer: DreamWorks Animation and Cressida Cowell own _How to Train Your Dragon_.

Disclaimer 2: Rift Raft owns _I Hear Him Scream_ and its sequel _Echoed Songs_.

Spoiler Notice: This fic builds upon many existing plot points from the above works. It also re-imagines _Riders of Berk_ plot points, _Defenders of Berk_ plot points, and plot points from the ongoing _Race to the Edge_ series on Netflix. If you don't mind proceeding now that you know this, go right ahead. If you do mind, feel free to stop reading right here and now.

* * *

Hello and welcome to _Now Nothing But Laughter_ , a sequel to _I Hear Him Scream_ , which is a fanfiction of _How to Train Your Dragon_. Anything that is written here is not canon to the IHHS universe.

This is an ongoing fic, one that is not yet near completion. It doesn't follow canon exactly, and even less so now that a canonical sequel is in the works. In other words, NNBL is a parallel universe to both IHHS and HTTYD 2, like IHHS is a parallel universe to HTTYD 1.

And now, we begin.

* * *

 _Hiccup smiled. Toothless did the same. The anxiety and fear and sorrow began to drift off them like a fog in a gentle breeze._

 _In the center of his forehead, where all magic had left him, now seemingly an empty shell, something began to spark, imperceptible and miniscule, like a lone ember at the bottom of an unlit bonfire._

 _It was enough._

 _Their link flickered to life._

* * *

"Hiccup!"

The unexpected call almost made me trip over my wooden peg leg. Glancing over my shoulder, I gave Dad the best glare I could muster before sighing and shaking my head. "Don't tell me _another_ Viking forgot that we're not at war anymore." I turned around and leaned on the wall to keep from falling off the large steps leading to my room, gauging his reaction as I did. "You know I can't be held responsible for what my nest-mates do if someone pulls a weapon on them."

Dad ignored my misdirection and asked what he had probably planned to ask in the first place. "What are you doing, coming in so late? I thought I told Gobber to send you home at sundown."

I broke our stare, hoping to hide my embarrassment at being so harsh on him. He _has_ been getting better, after all.

I rubbed the back of my neck as I tried to think of a believable excuse. I certainly don't want him catching on to what I've actually been up to, at least not until I'm done with everything. If my dad knew I was using valuable village resources to make a tail for Toothless, especially when so many tribes have been requesting our aid, he'd probably remove me from my apprenticeship. Best to keep him in the dark until there's nothing he can do about it. "I, uh, just took the long way home, around the forest."

He wasn't buying it. "For two hours?"

"W-well, I got, uh… sidetracked." I stammered. "The breeze felt really nice, and since winter is still a ways off, I thought that maybe…"

Cutting me off with a heavy sigh, Dad adopted the 'concerned father' look that he's given me more times in these last two months than I can remember. "Look, son, I know you're still adjusting, and I know that it's hard, but it's okay if you want to spend some time with your friend."

When _he_ paused to gauge _my_ reaction, I felt a small pang of guilt at keeping up the lie. Especially when I saw the pain on his face. I definitely wasn't expecting him to make _that_ assumption. I thought we'd already been through this.

He almost seemed to be pleading when he began again. "You don't have to lie about this, Hiccup. I can understand why you don't want me to know, but I won't try to separate you two again. And I know I never should have, either."

I gasped as we made eye contact. He looked desperate. It was like he was terrified of what I would say to him.

I slowly made my way down the stairs, not sure how to respond to Dad's sudden… weakness? No. Stoick the Vast isn't weak, or vulnerable. At least, that's what the Vikings of Berk would always say. Even the other tribes, even _Toothless_ , would attest to that, albeit grudgingly. But all I could see standing in front of the fire pit was a broken man.

"Son?"

Snapping out of my thoughts, I gave him a smile that I wish didn't feel so fake. "It's alright, Dad. I know you want us to go back to the way we were, but I'm not ready for that. I think it'll just take some more time."

He gave a small grin as he made his voice higher and nasally in an (obviously failed) imitation of mine. He even pulled his lips up a bit to show teeth. "Two months?" he asked, mocking the very same response I gave him a month ago when he pulled his sword on one of my nest mates. And just like that the weakness was gone.

I was, to say the least, _very_ surprised by his mood swing. I'd almost say I didn't recognize him; Dad _never_ jokes around, and when he does, it always blows up in his face (one time literally, when he tried to respond to Gobber's sarcastic remarks during a raid. From what I've heard, a Hum-Wing – or 'Gronckle', as Gobber still calls them – that was flying overhead enjoyed his sense of humor as much as Gobber did).

"Hey, that was almost good!" I drawled, giving him my best 'unimpressed' look.

My lip must have been twitching, because he threw his head back in a mighty Viking laugh, one I haven't heard in over a year. "Good?! That was better than any joke _you've_ made today!"

Great. He's found something new to make into a competition. And here I thought fighting and shouting were bad. Still, I couldn't help laughing along with him. Dad looked happier than I've ever seen him, and that was enough for a smile that felt so real, so genuine, that, for the first time in a year, I didn't feel cautious around him.

 _Maybe we can't go back to the way we were. Maybe we shouldn't. This is so much better._


	2. Chapter 2: Where's Hiccup?

**Disclaimer: Rift-Raft owns IHHS. DreamWorks owns the HTTYD movies and co-owns the TV series. Cartoon Network (regrettably) co-owns the first two seasons of the TV series. Netflix (thankfully) co-owns the rest of the TV series. Finally, Cressida Cowell owns the original HTTYD books, making all of this even possible in the first place.**

 **Disclaimer 2: Rift-Raft has come out with a sequel to IHHS called Echoed Songs. Give it some love, people.**

* * *

 _"Dream as if you'll live forever. Live as if you'll die today."_

* * *

I let out a long sigh, knowing that all the stress and tension of the last few days would flow away with it like a leaf in the breeze. I took a moment to relish in the pure joy and freedom that always comes with flying, and to bask in the warmth of the Dragon of the Sun above me. A big smile was set firmly on my face.

I soon turned it into a daring smirk. Glancing back, I checked my position before saying something I would probably regret. "You can't catch me!" I shouted over my shoulder, speeding ahead to put a good distance between us.

Toothless wasn't impressed, and he pumped his wings just a bit harder as he closed in.

I feinted, turning away at the last second so he would just barely miss his mark. Laughing, I cast a glance back as I tried to re-establish my lead, only to see him twirl midair in a quick pivot that set him right on my tail again. With a small yelp I pumped my wings as hard as I could, but it was no use.

Flying overhead, he simply landed on my back, my attempts to avoid him completely useless. "I can't what?" he mocked, a daring grin now on _his_ face.

Grunting, I squirmed as much as my body would let me, but couldn't move enough to escape.

Toothless gripped my neck with half-sheathed claws and chuckled as he began to angle us down.

Having just come out of a turn, we weren't flying at a dangerous speed, but it still wasn't very fun to see the ground approach so quickly. "Toothless!" I shouted, obviously not panicking at all.

"Yes?" he replied, putting on an innocent look.

Gasping as I sent another quick glance to the ground, I shouted back up to him, still squirming. "Okay! You _can_ catch me! Now get off!"

He tilted his head, motioning me to continue. "And?"

Despite the near-free-fall, I groaned as he gave me his usual cocky grin. "You win!"

"And?"

"You always win!"

"Better." Loosening his grip, he slowed us down just as we approached the cove.

Twisting out of his reach, I flapped my wings hard just above the ground, landing even less gracefully than usual, while Toothless lightly tapped down behind me. I sent him a weak glare. "Are you ever going to stop doing that?"

"Hmm, let me think." His face fell neutral in thought, and he took a full minute to respond while slowly pacing around the lake. It was only when I saw he was a few wing-lengths away that I knew he was up to something. "Nope!"

Faster than I could react, Toothless sprung from his pose with a weak flap of his wings, obviously trying to pin me. I batted his paws away and knocked his chin up with the wrist and outer edge of my wing, hoping to take him off-guard. It worked just like he said it would all that time ago, and I leapt out of the way just as his body was about to crash into mine. Judging by his hilarious expression when he turned around, he definitely wasn't expecting me to already be in the air, coming down on him.

I tried to pin his front paws so he couldn't pull off the same escape I just had, but I made the mistake of _completely_ forgetting about his hind legs while I was at it. In an all-too familiar motion, he kicked my torso and sent me flying behind him.

I didn't notice how close we were to the lake. Before I could even realize that I hadn't landed on solid ground, I was sinking into the deep end, the undercurrent dragging me down like an angry sea monster as the light of the Dragon of the Sun slowly dimmed. I desperately began to push my limbs and wings down to escape, but I only sunk deeper – much deeper than the lake should have been. Looking around for anything that could help, I shouted the only thing I could think of when I saw nothing. "Toothless! Help!"

No reply. My lungs were burning; I couldn't hold out any longer. I flooded my thoughts with my best friend, hoping that he would be okay, and voiced two final prayers. "Dragon of the Sun, please look after him. Dragoness of the Moon…"

My second prayer was interrupted by a golden light that flashed to life before me; I couldn't help the gasp that escaped my lips (which filled my lungs with air and not water). I felt a foreign (but not _too_ foreign) warmth on my dripping scales, and, squinting, I tried to make out what the golden light reminded me of.

The light slowly approached, bringing a voice with it. "So we finally meet, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III." The voice reverberated around me, booming and soft and soothing all at once. "It seems you are enjoying yourself in your dreams."

Okay. There's only one way to respond to that. "Oh sure, I love drowning. It's what I always wanted in life."

A sharper, not-at-all soothing chuckle drifted from the light, sending a shiver down my spine that wouldn't stop no matter how much I tried to stop them. If the first voice was golden, this one was silver, though the light never lost its brilliant yellow hue.

The first voice returned, curing my sudden shaking, and it didn't sound impressed as it addressed me again. "I did not expect to find my brother's sense of humor in you."

This was followed by a sharp snicker, but it didn't inspire the same chill it had before.

At a loss, I asked the only thing that came to mind. "Do I know you?"

"Not personally." The sharp voice responded.

Judging by the silence that followed, I could almost hear the glare from the first one.

After what felt like hours of staring at the light, the soothing voice answered. "Yes and no. You know _of_ us, but it has been a long time since we have met one of your kind."

"One of… my kind?"

The sharper voice snickered again, much louder and more pronounced this time. "Technically, I have never met one of your exact kind before, though my brother has. I still do not see the point to this, but then, there rarely is a point to fun things."

I mulled over his words before making the only guess that made sense. "You mean a hybrid?"

"Yes," they responded in unison.

I tilted my head. "But I'm not one anymore."

"Really?" the soothing voice asked, now much more curious than before. If a voice could raise an eyebrow, this one just did. "Would you show me your hand?"

I raised my hand, only to find a paw in its place, claws half-sheathed and still dripping.

"You no longer see yourself as a man," it carefully explained. "You may walk like one now, and talk like one, and think like one, but you are simply _not_."

I shook my head in frustration. "But Toothless said I could never change back, that I couldn't handle another transformation, and it took me weeks to understand that's what he was saying! How am I supposed to be a dragon if I can't even hear my best friend anymore? How am I supposed to be a hybrid if I can never change back?!"

There was a long moment of silence in the wake of my outburst, but the soothing voice eventually broke it, speaking just as calmly as before. "Your friend said that he could never change you back, that your body could not handle another sudden transformation, that you would die if he even tried. Unfortunately, he is right. That leaves us in a difficult position."

The sharp voice interrupted in what seemed to be as rude a way as it could. "Correction. That leaves YOU in a difficult position, Brother, not me. I still do not see the problem with welcoming him into our halls when his time comes. He fits all the criteria. He is brave, stubborn, resilient, and a hero of Vikings. He is even called a Savior-"

"By _dragons_." The smoother voice cut in, almost as rudely as its brother.

The sharper voice huffed. "I still do not see the problem."

"You _do_ see the problem, you just choose to ignore it so you can accept someone of your liking into our halls."

" _No_ , actually, I do not."

" _Yes_ , you do."

Both voices sounded amused at this point, but I cleared my throat to remind them that they had company. I felt like Spitelout trying to get Dad back on track when he gets distracted by Gobber.

"Regardless," the smoother voice began, its authority clear and commanding. It reminded me so much of my father in the town hall, only it sounded more, for lack of a better word, genuine, like I was listening to someone he learned it all from.

I didn't dare interrupt.

"We cannot hold sovereignty over one who no longer looks to us. You know this, Brother."

The sharper voice must not have gotten the memo. "You are not exactly able to prove that he does not."

"As a matter of fact, I am. I invited you after observing him in what he thought were his last moments. His final thoughts were of his friend, and in his last breath, he prayed to dragon deities."

The sharp voice turned on me with a hint of disgust and sadness. "Is this true?"

Just as I was about to respond, I felt the weight of the heavens on my shoulders. It was so heavy. I barely managed a nod. And just like that, the weight was gone.

He sighed, and seemed to turn away. "Very well."

The smoother voice sighed too. "Do not be disappointed, Brother. You know our laws are final."

His brother responded, almost in a fit. "Why is it that they always prevent _my_ kind of Vikings from the Halls?"

"It does not seem like they will prevent Dagur, do they?"

Alright, I'm not going to just let that slide. "You mean that maniac that threw daggers at me when I was little?!"

Both ignored me, and the sharp voice chuckled in the same way it had when I had first heard him. "You have made your point, Brother. I suppose I have the patience to wait a few more years."

The golden voice addressed me once again. "According to our laws, we may do nothing to interfere with your mind or body. Our only concern lies in the soul. I can do little to reward your efforts in bringing an end to a centuries-old war, one that unjustly took countless lives before their time, as I can no longer allow you into Valhalla."

 _What?!_

"I can only assist your soul in finding its true nature, when the time comes." The golden light began to fade, and the voices slowly receded with it.

I tried to make sense out of what they said before they disappeared completely. "Wait, did you say _Valhalla_?!" I didn't get the answer I was expecting.

Both voices spoke in unison and harmony. "May you find hope in despair, peace in strife, friendship in enemies, and life in death. Farewell, Savior." Their voices flared with the light when they finished, ending not in a slow fade, but a bang.

Once the light was gone, I noticed a new glow, very faint and the color of the Moon, right beneath me. I looked down to see myself standing on a very blurry surface. Squinting, I could just make out the jagged edges of a single puzzle piece – the one that, long ago, I desperately tried to hold onto – planted firmly beneath my feet. I slowly placed my paw in the center, and in the same instant, the silver glow spread to my body through my arm. Then, everything around me vanished.

I bolted upright in bed, immediately bringing my hands to my head on instinct. I barely found my voice, muttering only one word. "What?"


	3. Chapter 3: Coming Back Around

**Disclaimer: Rift-Raft made the setting, and Rift-Raft made it hot. I only own my story and my very own plot. Although many of you might appreciate how I gave this a shot, please give IHHS's sequel "Echoed songs" attention - a _lot_.**

* * *

 _"When the outlook isn't good, try the uplook!"_

* * *

Hiccup has been acting… strangely these last few days. Well, more than usual, anyway. He's constantly in the nest he calls a 'smithy' and barely talks to anyone – even that large, smelly human stopped trying to joke around with him a few days ago. Of course, Hiccup still talks to me and our nest mates, but I'm starting to get worried. Every time I try to bring up his new mood, he shrugs it off or changes the topic. Like he's to keep a secret.

That's why I made sure to wake up extra early this morning, so I could get some answers. I _had_ been expecting him to still be asleep (which he was) at this hour, considering how lazy he is, which gave me plenty of time to prepare what I'd say to him – he's not weaseling out of it by saying "I can't understand you" _this_ time! What I did _not_ expect was for his scent to be… off.

It's hard to explain, but he smells just a bit like he used to – like there's still some dragon left in him – but that's impossible. I _know_ another transformation will kill him, and now that he's not a dragon anymore, there's no reason for him to be the source of an even remotely draconic scent, no matter how faint. Lingering scents of our nest mates I can understand, but any Shadow-Blender scents other than mine should have left him long ago. Again, it was pretty small, but now I have yet another thing to ask him about, especially if he's found a new Shadow-Blender that he hasn't told me about.

The Dragon of the Sun was still well under the horizon by the time that I'd woken up, and He had just climbed over it when I lost my patience. "Hiccup. Wake up." Nudging him with my nose, I pushed off the 'blanket' to get a clear view of his face. "Hiccup!"

He bolted upright, grabbing his head with his paws, and instantly began sweating. He croaked out a single word through his sudden distress: "What?"

Not expecting such a violent awakening, I jumped back, my claws unsheathing on instinct. I immediately retracted them and leapt over to his side. "Is something wrong?" I asked, giving a concerned croon for clarity.

Hiccup turned to me, his eyes not holding their usual dull, sleepy glaze, as if he had been awake this whole time. "Toothless?"

We made eye contact, and I prayed to all the Gods that the link would spring forth. After flickering weakly for a few seconds, it leapt to life, stronger than it's ever been these past two months, but still much weaker than I was hoping for.

 _Confusion._ It was the only thing I could get from him, and it hit me pretty hard. I did my best to send over concern and comfort, trying not to get overwhelmed by his scattered thoughts, but it didn't feel like it was working. Breaking eye contact, I pressed my forehead to his, wanting nothing more than to calm him down. It took a few minutes, but his shivering and unsteady breathing slowly settled, and his excessive sweat and fear scents lost their potency as they did.

Now trying to calm my _own_ nerves, I carefully, slowly spoke in words that I knew he'd already learned. "What happened?"

Taking his forehead off of mine, he slowly looked up to meet my gaze and breathed out a long sigh. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" I repeated, nudging him to continue.

Hiccup's expression fell thoughtful and, after a minute, he sighed again. "Not really. Well, I do, sort of, but not exactly."

I tilted my head, now even more confused.

"You may even think I'm crazy if I told you. _Ow!_ Hey!"

Pulling back my tailfin, which had just finished delivering a very weak slap to his arm, I shook my head in determination and looked him in the eye. "No, I won't."

Hiccup returned the sharp stare briefly, but quickly looked down after a few seconds. "You're right. I'm sorry. It's just so weird." He looked up at me sheepishly. "And maybe a bit blasphemous."

My jaw dropped, and he was quick to laugh at my dumbfounded expression.

Slapping him again, I shook my head, my cheeks still warm from the embarrassment. "This is no time for jokes!" I cringed slightly at the volume of my voice as it echoed off the wooden walls of the nest.

Hiccup, not as affected as I by the echo, and speaking in a serious voice – more serious than I've heard out of him in a long time – shook his head too. "I'm not joking."

* * *

I don't know if I can call it luck or not, but I've had an easier time than I was expecting with keeping the tail fin a secret from everybody. Gobber never pays attention to what I do anyway, just dropping off the daily work load and coming back at sunset to collect it. I was so sure Dad was on to me, but after our conversation last night took an unexpected turn, which I don't mind _or_ regret anymore, I managed to hide it from him too. Toothless was much more difficult; I was able to stall him for three days, but I knew he would corner me eventually.

So, what happens the morning he was probably planning to pry it from me, the very same day that I'll be finished with his tail? I get visited by the gods! Hooray!

I knew I'd need a distraction, but I didn't need one _this_ much. And so, I get to sit down and spend all of my free day (which I was planning on using to finish touching up the tail, but now that'll have to wait until tonight) trying to explain Viking religion to a very confused dragon. Oh, and did I forget to mention that I can't understand half his questions? That makes it so much more fun!

"So to sum it up, only the Vikings that embody all the virtues of, well, Vikingdom, get a seat at Valhalla. Odin rules over the realm, while his sons Thor and Loki apparently have a more direct say in who are worthy enough to ascend and who aren't. And it looks like there are some laws that prevent them from accepting me, because I didn't 'look to them' while I was dying, or something."

Toothless looked at me in (thank the Gods) comprehension, and asked the same question that he had after every attempted explanation – one of the few that we both knew I'd understand. "And you believe in them?"

Giving a defeated sigh, I leaned away from him slightly as I braced myself for his reaction. "Yes and no."

Rather than hissing or growling like he did the last few times I answered that question, he simply raised his brows very high at my new response.

Relaxing slightly, I settled back down against his side as he pulled his tail around my legs, waiting for me to continue. "It's not like I pray to them like I used to, or even look to them for guidance. I don't _think_ I'll go to Helheim when I die, but it looks like I'm not going to Valhalla, either. I _do_ think they exist-" Toothless scoffed a bit at that, "-but I _don't_ think they want anything to do with me. Actually, from what they said, they do, or at least Loki does, but they have laws stopping them from doing anything about it."

Toothless' eyes were unreadable as he added on to his repeated question. "So what _do_ you believe in?"

I'm so lucky that I can understand the words of the most difficult questions.

I rested the back of my head against his folded wing, looking up to the afternoon sky as I searched for the answer. "Well, I guess we could look at what we know and try to come up with an answer, right?"

Toothless tilted his head in a questioning manner as I tried to piece together my thoughts. Hopefully he'll be able to understand them more than I can.

"We've already met the Dragon of the Sun and the Dragoness of the Moon, so we know that they exist, and we can _probably_ assume that the dragons' belief about how the world was formed is true. If not, it happened so long ago that it doesn't matter much either way. If we're going to believe my dream was a vision and not some hallucination, then we know the Viking gods exist too. My best guess is that the Viking gods either helped them form our world, came into existence after it was formed, or somehow found it after its formation; maybe some of the first Vikings who died became those gods?"

Toothless snorted, and he didn't even need to say anything for me to know what he was thinking.

I sighed. "I guess you're right; it's not like it really matters. Anyway, the Dragoness of the Moon is the sovereign of dragon souls while the Viking gods are the same for human souls." After thinking over what I said for a while, I gave a final nod, leaning back even more.

Toothless took a while to digest this, resting his head in his paws and looking at the forest with eyes glazed over. Eventually he looked over to me and gave a nod, satisfied with the theory.

I sighed in relief.

Relief that was short lived – his satisfaction quickly dissolved into concern. With a distressed grumble, he asked yet another difficult question. I didn't understand all of the words, but as soon as he finished, I knew what he meant (and I decided to fill in the blanks for you): "So who will be ruling over _your_ soul?"

My first response was almost automatic. "Well definitely not the Viking gods, from what they just told me."

Toothless snorted again, as if the mere thought of these gods dealing with me was laughable.

My second response, on the other hand... "So I guess that leaves… the Dragoness of the Moon?" Even _I_ knew the hope I was trying to push into my voice sounded fake.

Toothless turned his head around and rubbed his cheek against my own, releasing an encouraging purr and trying with all his might to cheer me up.

"Yeah, I hope so too, bud," I said, rubbing the bottom of his neck with my hand and causing the purr to become louder. I smiled at the sensation, starting to get over the heavy atmosphere that had settled around us, and pulled on his ear. "So, got any dumb questions that _don't_ make me betray everything I was raised to believe?"

Accepting the challenge, Toothless barked and paused to think. "What about food?"

I rolled my eyes. Of course he would find a way to bring food into this. "What about it? Are you hungry?"

He shook his head, smacking me with his one tail fin for good measure. I need to find a way to get him to stop that. "No, their _ _ _."

It took me a long time to figure out what he meant, but after a while it finally clicked. "Oh." I raised both my eyebrows as I searched for a way to respond. "You want to know what happens to game when it dies?" At his nod, I lowered one eyebrow as I thought about it. "Well, I don't think human _or_ dragon gods deal with animals. Maybe they have their own gods? Or maybe they don't have any?"

Toothless gasped at this last guess, and turned to me as if I had just told him that there is no afterlife.

"Hey, I'm just guessing here. I won't know unless some vengeful deer decides to use deer magic on me."

I laughed as Toothless gave me his 'I'm not amused' look.

We both gave a start when my stomach released a low rumble. Grinning in slight embarrassment, I stood up and turned to face my best friend. "I guess all this talk about food has made _me_ hungry. You up for a snack?"

"Yes!" he shouted, bolting upright with a happy chirp.

Chuckling, I turned around just before a very excited dragon pushed his head between my legs (well, leg and peg), dashing in the direction of the village when I got a loose grip around his neck. I smiled widely at his antics, gripping harder to avoid falling off as he weaved in and out of the trees.

 _Maybe I could get used to this after all._


	4. Chapter 4: New Tail

**Rift-Raft brought the angst. Less Wrong brought the thought. At first, I thought mine would be the only sequel; it's not. Check out IHHS and "Echoed Songs".**

* * *

 _"Birds of a feather flock together."_

* * *

"Alright, close your eyes. And no peeking!"

I groaned again at Hiccup's insistence that I don't see his "surprise" yet. I finally managed to corner him in the 'forge', which was weird because he hadn't worked in it while the Sun was still in the sky, meaning that today was probably a 'free day' from his 'job' and... okay, that was one human word too many. If I don't watch it, _I_ might start turning into a human. Hiccup's been _trying_ to get me to call things by human names, but I'm still not sure how to feel about it; the only reason I'll say 'forge' is because he spends so much time here. At first I was ticked at how much Hiccup wanted me to learn about the humans we're living with, _especially_ when he started his 'human lessons' a month ago; I _would_ wish for Hiccup to _not_ be insistent when it comes to stuff like this, if most of what he taught wasn't so damn useful to know. For instance, the large, smelly human he calls 'Gobber' isn't here either, so today was _definitely_ supposed to be a 'free day', and I wouldn't have been so sure about it if it weren't for those lessons. The fact that Hiccup came back here on his 'free day' _and_ during 'closing hours' (which he _has_ done before) made me remember _all_ about why I woke up early this morning.

Ignoring the smoke and sweat scents, I sniffed the air, trying to figure out what he thought I would be excited about _before_ he came back, but all I could smell was the usual metal-and-leather musk that comes from this particular nest. Hearing his footsteps come closer, I sniffed one last time, but was only met with a stronger leather scent.

"Okay! You can open them!"

I opened my eyes, immediately focusing on Hiccup to see what was making him so giddy. I tilted my head at the thing in his paws, not sure if the long, folded-up piece of leather was supposed to be the surprise. It apparently was, if Hiccup's wide smile had anything to say about it. Thoroughly confused, I gave it a wary sniff. "What is it?"

Beaming even wider, Hiccup unwrapped the leather and spread it open. "It's your new tail!"

* * *

"Yeeeeaaaah!" I shouted, raising my hands in triumph. I was so excited that I forgot to click my heel to avoid the fire. "Come on..."

It took a whole week of trial and error, but I _finally_ managed to invent a system that works! Granted, that fall was pretty scary, but this _totally_ makes up for it! The first time I showed Toothless his new tail fin, he gaped for a full minute, then tackled me and gave me a very thorough bath. Being the extremely patient dragon that he is, he of course wanted to try it right away. He even jumped into the air before I put it on him, forgetting that he actually, you know, needs _two_ tail fins to fly. When I had managed to strap it on, I wasn't expecting him to take off with me still sitting on his tail. And so, the process of trial and error began. Early on, I noticed that somebody would have to control the left tail fin positions during flight, so I made a saddle; one thing led to another, and here we are, flying away from the sea stacks that almost crushed us not moments ago and right into the smoke of a plasma blast.

I still don't know how I kept this a secret from everybody. I mean, dense Vikings are one thing, but not even _our flare_ knows, and they follow us _everywhere_ when they can get away with it. Well, now we don't have to keep it a secret anymore, do we? Grinning widely at the idea that was forming in my head, I leaned down close to Toothless' ear so I could be heard over the wind and, forgetting how good dragon hearing is for a moment, started to shout my question. "Hey, do you think-"

Toothless instantly lost the smile he'd been wearing and his whole body shook at the volume.

I grimaced as I realized what I'd done. "Sorry," I whispered, trying to keep my voice as low as I could. "I'm so sorry Toothless. I forgot how much that hurts."

He shook his head hard to clear the dizziness (which I can attest works _very_ well, so long as the noise is gone), and his body stopped shivering when he did. Now more annoyed than distressed, he gave me a glare and slapped my cheek with his ear right after in a single motion.

"I'll never do it again. I'm really sorry." I leaned down and scratched the side of his neck. If I weren't on his back, I wouldn't have felt his soft purr when I did.

He glanced over his shoulder and sighed, then made a low grumbling noise as he spoke. "It's alright."

Toothless hasn't always been the most forgiving dragon, and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding when I heard him drop it so easily. I finished the scratch and felt my own shoulders relax in relief, leaning back as we caught an air current and settled into an easy glide. We both took a deep breath of the late fall breeze as we simply enjoyed the feeling of being airborne once again.

Gods, I missed this. It was like all my worries were being carried away by the gentle breeze and I was finally free again. I bet Toothless missed this just as much as I did, and the carefree look he's now giving to the world just made everything better.

A rough patch of air decided that the time for relaxation was over, pushing us both out of our reveries and forcing me to click my now-metal leg into position to keep us steady. I only then noticed the Dragon of the Sun's intensity, and sighed when I did. He was just beginning to make His way down the sky, barely beyond His highest perch. "I think we should start heading back to Berk."

In a grunt of approval, Toothless began the motions for a turn and I moved the tail fin so we could make a sharp pivot. With one last pump of his wings, we began to drift back to the village.

I gasped when Toothless decided to make our return flight a little less boring. Giving him a quick glare, only to see the evil grin on his face, I had mere seconds to grasp the saddle and shout "Toothless!" before we started gaining altitude very quickly. At first I struggled to keep up with his quick turns and flips, keeping my attention only on his flight for what felt like hours. My arms and legs were aching after the tenth flip (at which point I stopped counting), and I knew from experience that his shoulders, wings, and tail would be aching even more than I am. But, after the next few sharp twists and dives, it became easier to keep up, though my sore muscles wouldn't agree with that, and by the time we had made it high above the town square, we were completely in sync with each other's movements, enjoying the breeze and dancing with the freedom that only comes with flying.

The Dragon of the Sun was much lower by the time we entered our final dive, but I didn't even notice the amount of time that had passed, or the sore muscles, or even our gaping nest mates. I had my eyes closed in a wide smile as a thought returned to my mind. It was a little different this time.

 _Maybe I_ should _get used to this after all_.


	5. Chapter 5: Hiccup's Dragon Sanctuary

**An IHHS disclaimer and an "Echoed Songs" disclaimer were last seen in the direction of an account by the name of Rift-Raft.**

* * *

 _"It all comes out in the wash."_

* * *

We dropped down in the open center of 'Berk' (as Hiccup wants me to call it), in the area shaped like a square and surrounded by the human 'trading' nests, met by many curious eyes and even more roars of approval. The landing was heavier than I had intended, and a small part of my mind spoke up. _Great, now your landings are as bad as Hiccup's_. It was easy to ignore. A wide smile that hadn't left my lips since we began our return flight greeted our flare. I was riding a huge, post-flight high that I don't think has ever been this strong before, except maybe after my first flight as a hatchling, so it took several minutes before I noticed the lack of weight on my back. I glanced around, only now paying attention to the excited chatter of the nest; I spotted a tuft of brown fur under the chin of the young Flame-Skin from our flare, his red-purple scales blocking everything else from view. From the looks of it, the excitable dragon had tackled Hiccup and began shooting questions rapid-fire, apparently forgetting that Hiccup wouldn't understand them. The green Little-Biter was on the Flame-Skin's back, curled around one of his spines as it did the same. I guess it's an improvement from constantly jumping on Hiccup's shoulder whenever it got the chance.

Chuckling, I trotted over until I was standing right in front of them. With a low grumble to catch the larger dragon's attention, I interrupted his inquisition. "You _do_ know that he can't understand you anymore, right? And that you can't understand him, either?"

Eyes widening when he realized he was standing on top of his Savior, he jumped back and bowed, quickly exclaiming his apologies. I must have imagined the scales on his cheeks getting slightly redder. Dragons don't blush.

A very bewildered Hiccup was still on the ground while the Flame-Skin slumped away, slowly getting up, patting his fake furs to get the dirt off, and turning to me afterwards. "What was _that_ about?"

Moving my neck in front of him so he could steady himself on his metal paw, I took a moment to find the words to answer. "He's curious."

A few chuckles escaped him, only to turn into full blown laughter when I gave him a quick slap with my wingtip. "I couldn't tell!" he managed to wheeze out between gasps.

I decided to give him an exaggerated eye roll this time rather than work him up even more.

Calming himself down, but still chuckling, he looked around at the excited grunts and stares that the nest was still giving us. "Is that all?"

Tapping my paw on the ground three times, a motion that Hiccup had me make early on for moments where the language barrier was really making life difficult, I clarified. "Yes. They all are. About… flying."

Looking around once again, his face lit up like it usually does when he has an idea doomed to crash and fall like we did earlier today (and for the last seven days, for that matter). "Translate for me?"

Releasing a loud sigh, I reluctantly nodded. I should have known this was coming. Ever since he turned back into a human, I would have to speak to the nest for both of us. Only the eldest Hum-Wing is as familiar with human speech as I am, and the rest range somewhere from 'pretty good' understanding to complete ignorance. The young Flame-Skin, for example, falls among the latter.

Thus, we developed this slipshod system where he can tell the nest anything but they can only tell him the basics. For instance, it took three whole days for me to get him to understand why those arrogant birds he calls 'messenger hawks' were disappearing. Needless to say the human King wasn't happy to hear that they were being eaten. Hiccup quickly fixed the issue, of course, but it still took frustratingly long to figure out the problem _and_ to tell (and then convince) the nest to stop eating them – especially the Two-Walkers. I still don't understand why Vikings need birds to speak to each other when they can just scream their heads off like always. There are some things I'll never understand about humans.

Hiccup brought my attention back to our nest mates with his first soon-to-be translated tidbit. "Alright then, tell them, uh… tell them I made a tail fin out of leather and metal so you could fly."

I spoke in a loud voice so all could hear me, and once I had finished, I swung my tail in a slow circle to show off the new appendage.

Many gasps and murmurs broke out among the nest as they tried to get a better look at it. The young Flame-Skin got the chance to sniff it and flashed his flames in a flurry of excitement.

"No!"

Quickly retreating, he turned to look at Hiccup's raised arms and worried expression. The rest of the nest followed his gaze, myself included.

"I mean, um," he stammered, searching for an explanation. "It's, uh, not fireproof."

Oh. I looked at the artificial fin with a raised eyebrow, not knowing how to feel about having a flammable body part. The few dragons who could understand him before I translated reacted in much the same way I did, soon to be followed by the rest of the nest.

The strange silence that had settled over us didn't last very long after the young Flame-Skin's face lit up and he bolted to my side (Little-Biter still in tow), pointing at the saddle. "What's that?"

Hiccup, not needing a translation, took no time in his reply. "Oh! That's the saddle I made. Toothless can't move the new tail fin on his own, so I sit on that while I move it for him!"

By the time I had finished translating, Hiccup was already on my back, clicking his metal paw into place but not strapping in like he would before a takeoff. He gave me a meaningful stare, and I soon realized what he wanted me to do. Lifting my tail up like last time, I let the leather dangle while I flapped my natural tailfin open and closed, to emphasize that I couldn't move the other. Then, in a motion more for demonstration than actual flying, Hiccup began flapping the new one open and closed, his metal paw matching its movements. Everyone watched with extreme interest as the leather followed Hiccup's commands and not my own.

A female Two-Head spoke next, completing each other's sentences as the more synchronized ones often do.

Noticing her orange scales and old age, I soon recognized her as the one who healed our magic when we first returned to the nest ages ago, before that Prebirth-bound monster enslaved Hiccup. I quickly turned my thoughts away from the past in order to keep my composure in front of the nest.

"So you cannot fly-" the left head began,

"-without each other?" the right finished.

I puffed out my chest in pride. "That's right." I only realized Hiccup had fallen off my back when I heard the thud on the ground behind me. Most of the nest broke out into laughter, and I could almost feel _my_ cheeks getting warmer.

Hiccup groaned as he pushed himself to his knees. "Ow."

Turning around to help him up and hopefully hiding my embarrassed grin, I let him grab my neck again as he slowly steadied himself onto a shaky stand. He said he's almost used to his metal paw, but I can tell he's still having trouble adjusting.

"And _that's_ why I always strap in when we fly." He gave me a weak glare after finally finding his footing.

I returned an apologetic croon followed by the two words I've found myself using more often than ever, my eyes meeting his when I did.

I wasn't expecting the link to spark to life like a dull ember catching a breeze.

I was flooded with images of flight, concentration, and the lingering feelings of freedom and happiness that I just knew I was returning. Beneath it, though, there seemed to be a much more recent feeling of uncertainty, less than a minute old. My confusion didn't last long, and I immediately pushed all my regret and apology to the forefront of my mind when I saw what was making him nervous. This was the first time Hiccup has fallen off my back outside of the test flights.

How could I have been so careless?

Breaking eye contact, I leaned over and pressed my forehead against his, letting out an apologetic purr and saying those same two words. "I'm sorry."

After a dreadful moment of stillness, he lightly returned the gesture. "It's alright."

Pulling away, I sighed in relief when I saw the grin on his face.

It wasn't until he started whispering in my ear that I saw the hint of mischief in it. "But if it happens again, you don't get sauce for a week."

He laughed when I miserably failed my unfazed expression. It's not my fault though. Of all the human 'inventions', as Hiccup calls them, 'sauce' is definitely the best. Well, after my tail, of course, but that doesn't count. If there's one reason besides Hiccup for me to stay around the humans, 'sauce' is definitely it. Most of the nest hasn't tried it yet – and that definitely has nothing to do with the time I spit it out in front of them – but that just means more for me!

Hiccup and I both noticed the silence around us when he finished laughing. Hopefully the others didn't catch the bit about the sauce. My eyes widened when I realized we had just done what looked like a seal of trust before them.

Hiccup didn't seem to catch on at first either, looking around in brief confusion until his eyes widened too. "Wait, where is everyone?"

"What?" I asked, not expecting the question, or for _that_ to be the source of his confusion. "We're all here," I said. Wasn't that obvious?

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I mean the villagers. Where are all the humans? The town square is usually packed this time of day." He paused for a moment before gasping in dread. "Does that mean I'll have to explain all this _again_?"

I glanced around, just as surprised as he was. "Where _are_ all the humans?" I asked no one in particular.

The elder Hum-Wing immediately answered. "They all went to the stone nest. I heard someone mention an 'urgent message' immediately after a ringing, metal noise had come from the mountain. Everyone seemed a bit panicked, so I don't think the humans knew what was going on, either. When the King announced that there would be a meeting, all the humans followed him up the hill."

I raised an eyebrow at the humans' strange way of gathering, but didn't say anything about it. After all, it could just be a _Viking_ thing, not a _human_ thing. Hiccup taught me the difference a while ago, letting me know that not _all_ humans are as crazy as these ones. I guess it's not _entirely_ their fault, but fighting fire with fire will only get them so far now that the raids are over. Deciding to think about it later, I shrugged, turning to Hiccup to tell him where the humans went.

He froze, eyes widening further as a weak fear scent began to drift from him. "There's a meeting going on? _Right now_?!" He jumped into action and rushed in the direction of the hill, our nest-mates parting to let him through as he did. "I'll see you later Toothless! This is probably important!"

As I watched Hiccup climb up the hill and enter the mountain, my mind wandered back to the link we had just shared, trying to make out that familiar feeling just as it took hold. The bond was a little stronger than it was the last time, almost as if it were just barely being aided by a new source of magic, similar to how it was once fortified by Hiccup's and the Queen's all that time ago. I turned over the possibilities in my mind. There's no doubt that our minds are now free, so it can't be someone else's doing. I don't think it's _my_ magic, and I _know_ it can't be Hiccup's; Hiccup may have been a Shadow-Blender once, but humans don't have magic. I guess that leaves… the Gods? I shook my head, just as confused as I was when I started.

That's probably a question only time will answer.


	6. Chapter 6: Ready the Ship

**Broken record time: Go check out _I Hear Him Scream_ and _Echoed Songs_ , both on Rift-Raft's profile.**

* * *

 _"Put on your pants one leg at a time."_

* * *

I leaned against the massive wooden door, panting as it slowly swung shut. The flight had taken a lot out of me, and a climb to Berk's most elevated public building on my new foot wasn't exactly an easy follow-up. After a few more seconds of heavy breathing and one last second to (hopefully) compose myself, I slowly made my way to the crowd of unusually quiet Vikings. I tried to ignore the large, dragon-being-killed chandelier above the fire pit, even though it was _really_ hard to do. It's like it was staring right at me, saying 'your friends are still in danger'. Even though I knew _in my mind_ that they weren't, my racing heart was still telling me to do something about it. Eventually I decided to ask Dad to remove it later just so I could focus, and I picked up his voice right after I did.

He sounded like he was finishing some kind of explanation. "-and Gobber will be the only ones leaving. No more."

One of the villagers wasn't convinced. "Couldn't they just wait till the summer, like they're supposed to?"

"Apparently not," Dad returned, frowning.

This time, I recognized Gorge's voice as he spoke up. "And you're sure we're not bringing anybody else?"

"Yes. This will be a very short meeting. We should be back before a full week passes."

I nearly fell over when I heard Ruffnut whine out her question. "But why does _Hiccup_ get to go? Why not me?"

Tuffnut took this as his cue to join in. "Or _me_?"

"Uh, I think you guys are forgetting that _I_ would go before either of you two!" Snotlout bragged, pointing a finger at them.

Astrid snorted. "Oh please! You'd be the _last_ one to go to a _peace_ meeting."

Bringing up the rear, Fishlegs finished the quintet. "Technically, we'll _all_ be going to the summer gather."

"ENOUGH!" Dad's voice, loud and commanding as usual, easily silenced the banter. "Chiefs, heirs, advisors, and two helmsmen. Five people per tribe. No more. Was I not clear?" Giving a harsh glare to each of them, one that soon spread to the rest of the hall, he gave a final grunt of dismissal. "Good. Everybody clear out and ready the ship. We set sail in the morning. Spitelout is in charge until we return."

The village, either not wanting to tempt fate by pestering him again or satisfied with his orders, began rushing out of the Hall in the usual 'me first!' fashion.

I was still rooted in place, unable to piece together what was going on. _I'm leaving? TOMORROW?! But I can finally fly again! And Toothless can't fly without me!_

I was about to continue the pessimistic line of thought until an idea hit me, an idea so good that it stopped any further mental protesting. I sighed; whatever happens, at least now I know the first thing to build when I get back to the forge. I just hope a solo-flying tail won't take _another_ week to make.

A shove to my back that I've learned means "There you are!" in Viking punch-language literally knocked me out of my thoughts, and I had to swing my arms in front of me and hop on my one good foot a few times to keep from falling over. I was about to turn around and give my attacker a glare when I was cut off.

"Hiccup! I was just about to send for you!" As usual, my Dad easily won the 'who can talk loudest in public' competition, but forgot whatever he was going to say when he got a good look at me. "Why are you covered in soot? I thought Tyrsday was your day off."

I sighed. "It's a long story. W-what was all this about?" I gestured around me, trying to change the topic.

"You didn't hear?" he asked, apprehension creeping into his voice.

I shook my head. "Uh, I kind of got here late. I heard something about leaving the island, but not much else."

"And what kept you from getting here early like you usually do?"

"Um... nest business?"

"Alright," he sighed and nodded, relaxing at the explanation but quickly regaining his towering composure and directing his gaze back to my medium-rare body. He looked me over for a long time, as if inspecting a fruit to see if it were ripe enough to pick.

My body felt like it wanted to twitch, but I've had enough practice with my nest mates to keep it still. I had more important things to worry about anyway. "So, uh, what was this about?"

With a single nod to himself, Dad pulled out a piece of parchment and handed it to me. "See for yourself."

I tilted my head and took the paper, wondering why he was choosing now of all times to _not_ explain what was going on. My confusion didn't last long, though; curiosity has a way of distracting me, _especially_ when it has to do with writing.

The first thing I noticed was the Meathead seal. Each of the six Viking tribes in the archipelago has a unique seal that's put at the top of any official message. The Meathead's is, unsurprisingly, a picture of meat. I could even smell traces of bacon from the parchment.

The second thing I noticed was the set of _ink_ runes that filled the parchment. That's _very_ unusual. Most messages are written in charcoal; ink is a rare commodity that's only restocked by trader Johann twice a year per tribe, and he doesn't ever part with much of it, _and_ he has to supply _all_ the tribes. If it's being written in ink, then it has to be about something important, otherwise the tribe that sent it would be seen as weak or whiny. I think Gobber's exact words (when he was dealing with the paperwork for the repair requests) was something along the lines of "All these ninnies need ta know when ta use charcoal! If the Berserkers think they're suckerin' me into helpin' 'em first with their fancy ink, they've got another thing comin'!"

Too eager to analyze the craft of the message further, I carefully began reading.

 _Hairy Hooligans,_ (as usual, Viking greetings are very creative)

 _I request that your chief, Stoick the Vast, his heir, and his closest advisor attend a half-gather at Odin Island. I have made an important discovery about the dragon scourge we all face, or perhaps, no longer face, that I must share with all Vikings. Since this will only be a half-gather, I also request that the head count on each arriving ship be no greater than five. I doubt it will last more than three days, so go easy on the provisions!_

 _The Opening Ceremony will begin on the final Thorsday of Autumn at High Noon._

 _P.S. Make sure you don't forget about the Summer Gather. You remember what happened the last time a tribe did that, Stoick, and I don't want you out-casted before I can get a piece of you!_

 _-Chief Mogadon of the Meathead Tribe_

Short, to the point, and uncompromising. _Definitely_ a Viking message.

Just to make sure I wasn't mistaken, I read over the date a second time. My eyes only widened further when I did. "The final Thorsday of fall? Isn't that two days from now?"

Dad replied without changing his expression. "Aye, that it is."

I didn't manage to hide the accusation in my voice very well. "When exactly did we get this message?"

My father is many things, but a procrastinator is not one of them. "It arrived over a month ago, by _messenger hawk,_ " he pointed out, equally as accusatory as I'd been.

"Oh," I said, rubbing my hand behind my neck and avoiding his eyes. Of course it arrived at the height of _that_ fiasco. "Sorry about that."

Dad released a heavy sigh, hands on his hips and head lowering as he continued. "I guess I should be thankful it wasn't eaten in the first place." He stood up straighter before explaining. "Gorge found it this morning when he was sorting through all the hawks. There's not much we can do about it now beyond dealin' with it. We set sail at dawn. It'll take a full day and night of sailing to reach Odin Island on time if the tides are against us, so I've had the men prepare and stock our fastest ship."

I suddenly got an idea, one that would hopefully prevent a certain grumpy dragon from exploding at me when I broke the news to him. "You know, we have a faster way of crossing oceans now-"

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" Dad shouted, so loudly that I was almost physically shoved back by the volume alone, never mind the shock. Flinching at my reaction, he quickly calmed himself with another sigh. "I'm sorry Hiccup, but we have to keep everything that happened last year a secret until we find a good way to deal with it. And I mean _everything_. I don't even know how to _begin_ talking to the Burglar Chief about it all, let alone the others. The last thing I need right now is for someone to think that _we_ had something to do with the end of the war. The more we can do to keep their eyes off of Berk this winter, the better, and that means no dragons."

I sighed and nodded, somehow disappointed _and_ relieved by his stubbornness. There'd probably be more risks than I could think of if I brought Toothless to a gathering of all the strongest Vikings in the area, and maybe even the world. There was only one thing bothering me about his otherwise simple explanation. "What do you mean my 'being alive'?"

He chuckled at this. "Lucky for all of us, it's 'being alive' and not 'being a dragon'. I told most of the other tribes you were killed by a Night Fury after you shot it down."

"That's it?" I asked. This was actually the first time I thought about what could happen to Berk if the other tribes knew more than that. Before now, I had never really thought about what Dad would have said to the other tribes, let alone try to ask him. I kind of always assumed they knew. "They don't know _anything_?"

Dad looked up in thought as he searched for important details. "Well, some of them also used to think we _let_ your, uh, 'replacement' escape from the Ring, and that that had something to do with the lack of raids on Berk. Most of 'em don't anymore though. Not even Bertha still does, and she was bold enough to say it to my face at the end of last winter, right in front of both our tribes. At the time, there wasn't much more for me to say. You remember better than anyone how I felt back then."

I looked down to the ground, trying not to let my thoughts wander to the past.

Dad's voice became a lot more panicked after he realized exactly what he had said. "Not that I do anymore! I mean, well, I just-" he stammered, grasping for an explanation.

"It's alright," I said, sighing. "What's this about a summer gather?" I asked, again hoping the change in topic would distract us both.

Dad's entire demeanor changed as his eyes lit up in excitement. "Oh! Do you remember that traditional Viking gathering that all of Berk went to almost ten years ago, the one where you met all the other tribes' chiefs and heirs?"

It was hard to forget the loudest, most disorganized two weeks of my entire life. And _yes_ , I'm including last year. There's something about thousands of Vikings with nothing but mead and their own two fists for entertainment that does that.

At my reluctant nod, he continued. "It's a very sacred tradition, held once every decade. If you remember, the Berserkers hosted it last time. It seems like Mogadon plans on hosting this half-gather, probably to weasel his way out of hosting a full one. Not that I blame him. He always knew how to make something good out of a bad situation."

This was starting to sound like something I shouldn't even be attending. "What's so bad about this half-gather?"

Dad sighed and shook his head. "What's bad is the whole reason he's bringin' it together. Vikings haven't had a half-gather like this in centuries. The last one I've read about was brought together when the dragon problem got worse, well over two hundred years ago. After that, it was decided that it wasn't worth the risk to gather all the tribes' chiefs and heirs in one place more often than tradition dictates."

I creased my eyebrows at the coincidence. "That sounds like it matches up with when the Queen arrived at the nest."

Dad eyed me with curiosity, then nodded. "You're probably right. Anyway, I guess it's only natural that another half-gather is called now that the war has ended."

I thought about this for a while, a small detail that had been bugging me finally becoming a bit more relevant. "Why do they think the war has ended? I doubt any of the other tribes are on friendly terms with dragons just yet, and if this message arrived over a month ago, then it makes even less sense that think so based on the lack of raids."

Both of his eyebrows rose as he looked at me in surprise, probably not expecting a question like that. "Well, the Meatheads _were_ always the most active when it came to searchin' for the dragons' nest. They were the first to lead a fleet into Helheim's Gate last spring. I bet they led another sometime after you came back, only to find an empty mountain."

Another detail started bugging me. "How did they even find it? Those pillars are a maze to navigate if you don't know where you're going. Shouldn't the fog have _at least_ slowed them down for another month?"

Dad shook his head. "Our scouts say that the fog around the nest is gone. _She-_ " (he spat out that particular word with clear malice, as if it would leap out and bite him) "probably had something to do with that as well. Without that fog, and without any guarding dragons, they must have found the nest. I wouldn't be surprised if Mogadon pushed 'em to make it in record time. Actually, I guess they _set_ the record either way, since they're the first Vikings to ever land there. I imagine Mogadon would've rushed his men as much as caution allowed once he saw that all the old obstacles were gone." He thought for a while longer. "Or maybe they saw the remains of the battle and figured out the rest."

I shook my head. "No, they definitely found the nest. Maybe they did come across all those scorched pillars, but I doubt they'd be sending this if that was all they saw."

"You think so?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Plus, what kind of hunting-happy chief would stop there? Even _I_ would keep searching after that if I were in his boots, and I _hate_ putting people in more danger than they have to be. Since it's safer for everyone in the long run, it's just too important to _not_ go at least that far."

Dad was beaming with pride by the time I finished. "Hiccup, I think you're going to make an excellent chief one day!"

I could easily feel my cheeks getting warmer. "Well, I kind of already am one."

Throwing his head back in laughter, he gripped my shoulder to steady himself, only for it to turn into an affectionate pat. "Aye, that you are. Now! I need to get ready for tomorrow, and so do you. Make sure to get a good night's rest. You'll be needing it."

I was about to nod when a brilliant idea hit me. "Couldn't you just take Snotlout and pretend I'm still 'dead'?"

He laughed again as he shook his head. "I'll admit I thought about doing just that, but I figured we'll be lying enough as it is. Plus, that would just delay it to next summer. Best to rip the bandage off fast and be done with it." He was about to turn around when he stopped mid-swivel. "Oh! The survival of the village could very well depend on how we handle this, Hiccup; a chief _must_ protect his own. I'm sorry I've got to separate you from your friend for a few days, but that's the way it has to be. And tell Toothless I'm sorry, too. If there was any way around it, I'd have taken it." He began making his way over to the wooden doors to leave the now empty hall.

Just before he crossed the threshold, I called out to him. "Dad?"

He halted, looking back with a hesitant smile. "Yes, son?"

"Thanks."

With a final nod, he turned and left the hall, almost like he was trying to hide his face. I smiled at what I saw before he did. I never thought he could look so happy.


	7. Chapter 7: Dragon Racing

**Yet another Rift-Raft disclaimer. _I Hear Him Scream_ and _Echoed Songs_ are off somewhere yonder, being the official story and sequel and all that.**

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 _"Life's a party, and everyone's invited!"_

* * *

It seemed like ages had passed when I finally saw Chief Stoick exit the hall. I knew he'd have a lot to talk about with Hiccup, but I didn't think it would take as long as it did. Scratching Stormfly's chin in just the place she likes one last time, I nudged Fishlegs and gestured at the chief. After jumping in surprise and squealing "Astrid!", he caught on quickly, doing the same to Ruffnut and so on until we were all out of our dazes and walking towards the Great Hall.

It's funny. I never used to spend so much time relaxing before I met Stormfly, even though I really really _really_ should have. So of course, now that I don't _need_ to be relaxed and keep a cool head, I learn how helpful it can be to step back and take things slowly. I'm pretty sure the same can be said about Snotlout and Fishlegs. Laziness is kind of the twins' thing though (along with pranking in the name of Loki), so, if anything, taking care of a dragon is _more_ work than they're used to. Well, excluding the time we spent in our other apprenticeships. I think those took more work than _any_ of us were used to. At least it felt that way with how difficult and boring it was.

Shaking myself out of my memories when Hiccup stepped from the hall, I began walking over to him in what was supposed to be a casual stroll, with Stormfly by my side and the others close on my heels. I'm still not very comfortable being the leader after everything that I put them through, but I shrugged it off when I got close to Hiccup, who was covered in ash from head to foot. I would have been surprised a few weeks ago, but lately I've been ignoring Hiccup's dragon-related antics just so that I'd have enough time in the day for other things.

After our dragons had risen from their bows (which, even though I kind-of understand, are still _very_ weird to see, considering how it's _Hiccup_ on their receiving ends), I stepped forward. "So, is the little heir all grown up?" I asked in a weak attempt at humor.

A wide smile on his face, his response was not at all what I was expecting. "Looks like it." He began to chuckle when I just stared at him, mouth half open.

I brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, pretending nothing had happened. I tried to make sense of a Hiccup I've never seen before with my next question. "Okay, what happened in there?"

His answer didn't help. "A lot."

Giving him an annoyed glare, I pressed on. "Like?"

He smiled even wider. "Let's just say Dad didn't give me a _single_ disappointed scowl in the longest conversation I've had with him. Ever."

Well that explains it. Ever since his first 'weapons misfire', as he liked to call it, every Viking in Berk has become _very_ familiar with that particular expression.

Still, something about what he said didn't quite make sense. "I don't think I've personally seen one of those on him ever since you, uh, came back. Is it really that big a deal?"

Hiccup shrugged. "Well, it's about the fourth best thing that happened to me today. So yeah, it is."

I raised an eyebrow at the hint. "And what, may I ask, are numbers one through three?"

Hiccup gave a Gods-damn annoying smirk. "You'll see."

That was all the answer he gave me before the others began jumping in.

Ruffnut led the pack, her voice much whinier than it had been in the hall. "You're so _lucky_! Why do you get to go on this 'important mission' and not us? Even _Dad's_ going!"

Hiccup's eyes widened as he turned to her. "Wait, Gorge is going too?"

"Didn't you hear him in the list?" I asked, surprised that he didn't know information that the chief had to repeat three times before the village could remember. I never took Hiccup as the forgetful type, so clearly something was up. Maybe it has to do with his strange mood. Or the ash.

Hiccup shrugged again. "Well, I kind of came in the hall just as he was finishing up. I didn't even know there _was_ a meeting until it was almost over."

Okay, something is _definitely_ up. Hiccup is always the first to know when something is going on in the village, unless he's with Toothless…

He turned back to the twins before I could put two and two together. "But can't you guys just ask your dad about the trip afterwards?"

This time it was Tuffnut who answered him. "Well yeah, but that doesn't mean we don't want to go! Can you imagine all the things we could pull on the other tribes?"

Hiccup didn't seem surprised by this at all, but Fishlegs cut in before he could answer. "How much do you think you could 'pull' when there'll hardly be anyone there? You guys would get caught right away."

Both the twins recoiled at this, but it was Tuffnut who responded, using his mock-formal voice. "I am insulted that you think so little of us, good sir! Do you think us incapable of stealth, of deceit, or of all the qualities our esteemed Loki holds dear?" He had his left hand on his sister's shoulder while he held his right hand in the air, reminding me of a picture of a hand-shaped island I once saw a drawing of, balling it into an upturned fist as he finished.

His sister joined in, eyes narrowing and finger pointing at the large Viking's nose. "Yeah, what do you take us for?"

Fishlegs wasn't deterred. "You'd still be the first one the Chief would blame if something went wrong. Even if you didn't do it." His eyes narrowed as he spoke, no trace of nervousness in his gaze.

It was still super weird seeing him so confident; ever since summer ended, I've hardly even seen him tapping his fingers together. He's said more than once that he feels like he's "in his element" around all the dragons on Berk, and he's always more relaxed with Meatlug by his side. Even _I_ get more confident when Stormfly's around, so I can hardly imagine the effect it would have on Berk's self-proclaimed 'dragon expert'.

The expert finished his 'analysis on the difficulties of pranking' (which I shortened for you, thank you very much) with a question. "What do you think Stoick the Vast would do if such an important and historic peace gathering were ruined and he thought _you two_ were responsible?"

The twins exchanged a horror-filled glance before Tuffnut said what they just now silently agreed upon. "You, sir, make an excellent point." He then spoke louder, as if delivering some verdict. "My sister and I have decided to execute our brilliant plans in a different way, I'm sorry to say. Please forgive us, Loki, but we must live if we wish to prank another day!"

Snotlout rolled his eyes at the now-prostrate Tuffnut. "Yeah. Brilliant. That's what they are."

Ruffnut was quick to reply. "Wait and see, my good man. Wait and see."

Snotlout huffed. "Whatever. I still don't understand why the chief's taking Gobber and Hiccup over Dad and me. It makes no sense!"

I felt the urge to knock Snotlout down a peg, but Fishlegs answered before I could. "He would only bring you if Hiccup were still, um, incapacitated. If you remember, he only took you on those trading missions because he thought you were the only heir left on Berk. Plus, do you _really_ want the responsibility of becoming chief one day?"

Snotlout's eyes widened when he remembered the whole point of being an heir in the first place. "It'd still be pretty cool to go…" he grumbled out, looking down and kicking his feet.

Interrupting with a now-cleared throat, Hiccup decided to test our memory skills with his next question. "So, who all _is_ my father taking on this trip?"

While the twins began stammering to pretend like they knew, Fishlegs spoke up, counting on is fingers as he listed them off. "There's the Chief, Stoick the Vast, his heir, you, his closest advisor, Gobber, who actually isn't his closest advisor because his brother Spitelout has to run the Village while-"

"Fish _legs_ ," Hiccup warned, giving a small glare to stop the ramble.

Fishlegs gave a sheepish smile before finishing the list on his pinky and thumb. "And his two helmsmen, Gorge and Bucket."

"Wait a minute, he's taking _Bucket_?!" Hiccup was as surprised as the rest of the village had been when the Chief announced that in the hall.

Fishlegs quickly rattled off the Chief's reasoning as well. "W-well, he _is_ a good helmsman, and he wouldn't harm a fly, so he's not bound to get into a fight at the gather. He's also a night owl, so he'll pilot the ship when Gorge is asleep. The Chief also said his, uh, head injury keeps him from remembering things. Stoick asked him about you before the entire village and all he could get out of him was 'Who's Hiccup?', so there's no chance that he'll be spilling the beans about… you know… _it_."

Hiccup had adopted a thoughtful expression during the explanation. "That… makes sense." Releasing a sigh and shaking his head, he turned to the rest of us. "Did he say anything else?"

We all turned to Fishlegs, and he tapped his fingers together at all the attention. "Umm, he told the town to do whatever they can to keep the other tribes in the dark about what really happened last year until he finds a way to deal with it, but I think that's about it." Fishlegs jumped. "Oh! He said that if anyone outside of the tribe asks about you, then we should only say that you're alive, you just woke up, and you were really hurt, so nobody really knows what you went through yet."

Hiccup took a moment to digest this, chin held by his left thumb and index finger as he looked down. He had been pacing slowly, favoring his (metal?) leg until he suddenly stopped and shrugged. "I guess that's kind of true," he said, turning to look at the rest of us. His expression brightened as he asked his next question. "So, how are you all enjoying your new friends?"

Everybody exploded into excited exclamations about how their own dragon is the greatest thing that's ever happened to them, that they don't know how they could live without them, and that they never knew they were missing out on so much.

Our dragons seemed to realize that they were now the subject of our conversation after Meatlug grumbled something to the rest, and some began releasing a series of grunts to Hiccup while others (Stormfly included) released happy chirps and nuzzled their riders. It looks like one of the Zippleback heads did the former while the other did the latter.

Hiccup chuckled as the loose chaos began to settle down. "Well I'm glad everyone's happy with how it turned out. Have any of you gone flying yet?"

The answer was an almost unanimous "YES!" accompanied by croons and chirps that I'm starting to think mean the same thing, again after Meatlug finished grunting at the others.

Flying is _way_ better than anything I could ever dream of! Gods, there's just something about it that I can't live without anymore. I don't even know how I did it before, but it's like I wasn't _really_ living until Stormfly took me up into the sky for the first time. There's _so much freedom_ up there that every time I leave the ground it's like I've died and gone to Valhalla! And did I mention how Stormfly is _so_ smooth and fast in the air that I sometimes even forget I'm on her back?

His mood improved even more after our enthusiastic responses, and he asked his final question with a mischievous grin. "So who's fastest?"

Snotlout was the first to begin bragging. Predictable. "Me and Hookfang are the fastest things in the sky! Nobody can beat us!"

I scoffed at that. "Please. Stormfly and I could fly circles around that monstrosity."

Hookfang growled at this, sharing his rider's opinion, which he soon deadpanned for all to hear. "If that was supposed to be a joke, it wasn't funny."

"Care to prove me wrong?" I challenged, casually studying my nails, fully confident that I could wipe the floor with him after all my practice.

"Uh, I don't have to. I saw you flying the other day, and I have to say, I don't think there's a single dragon on Berk slower than that napper! You could never beat us on a dragon as lazy as yours." He pointed at Stormfly when he finished, arrogance dripping from every word.

Hmm. So he saw us during our trust flights, did he? Well I think it's about time I _did_ knock him down a few pegs. "Then I guess a race to the other side of the island and back should be easy for you?" I taunted, making sure to stroke his ego as much as I could so it would be all the sweeter when he comes crashing down. "Fishlegs! You be the judge!"

Caught off guard, Fishlegs stammered out some form of acceptance before Snotlout hopped on the back of his Nightmare.

"You're on!" he shouted, giving Hookfang a quick pat. They both leapt in the air, Snotlout shouting "Snotlout! Snotlout! Oi, oi, oi!" as he milked his head-start.

I quickly followed suit, and in no time at all, Stormfly and I were gaining on him. "Cheater!"

* * *

Watching the two most hotheaded Vikings I know speed away, I chuckled and turned to face the town square.

Fishlegs looked at me with an accusatory glare. "You knew this would happen, didn't you?"

I felt the grin that hadn't left my face since I got this perfect idea widen. "Maybe."

The twins burst into laughter so hard that they couldn't even stay on their feet.

Cupping my hands around my mouth and ignoring them, I called out to where I had last seen my best friend. It didn't take more than a few short seconds for the smiling black dragon to land in front of me. I could tell how ready he was for another flight, and he only got more excited when I brought up a subject we were both very familiar with. "Want to win a race?"

* * *

Snotlout was so full of himself that he hadn't even bothered looking behind him, already confident that he'd cheated his way to a large enough lead for an easy win.

Rolling my eyes, I turned to Stormfly and made a sound barely louder than the wind. "Shh."

Of the many practice flights we've had, the stealth ones were easily the most fun. It only took a bit of charades to get Stormfly to understand what I had wanted us to do the first time around, but after a while it almost became like she could read my thoughts. One night I could have sworn she disappeared from right below me, as invisible as a Night Fury at that hour.

Mimicking my practice rhythm, I made sure to silence even my breathing as we passed underneath Snotlout. Sneaking a peak behind to see if he'd noticed, I nearly lost it when I saw him smiling with his eyes closed. Really, that boy's arrogance is something else. Of course, no amount of arrogance could keep the dragon below him from spotting us.

"Time to go!" I whispered to Stormfly, urging her to focus on speed now that we were in the lead.

This time, I _did_ laugh when I heard the "Hey!" followed by a whoosh of air behind us. Giving one last glance behind to see how much of a lead I had gotten, I nearly lost my grip on my rope when I saw a black blur zoom right past Hookfang. It was so fast that it only took a few more seconds to pass me and Stormfly next. And we were a good thirty feet ahead too, _flying at top speed_! Both our dragons were so startled that they slowed to a hover as they stared at what had passed them. It had almost reached the other end of the island before I spotted the auburn hair atop the silhouette of the only grounded dragon in Berk. It was already half-way back to us before I put two and two together, and only a few yards away when all doubt in my mind was erased. It slowed down to a gentle glide as it passed us.

"I'll see you back at the village!" Hiccup casually remarked, more in amusement than anything else. His dragon, on the other hand, was giving us a look that clearly said 'I dare you'. At that, they sped off once again, maintaining the speed they had used to pass us the first time.

"HICCUP HORRENDOUS HADDOCK III, YOU GET BACK HERE!" I shouted, nudging Stormfly to chase after him.

Snotlout must have had the same idea, since he followed and began shouting some very colorful curses right along with me.

I sped back to the village, the race completely forgotten, determined to learn how in Odin's name he was in the air, and how he managed to beat the two fastest riders on Berk without even breaking a sweat.

The square was pretty packed when we came in for a landing. It looks like we weren't the only ones Hiccup had kept his secret from. Judging by the size of the crowd, I'd be willing to bet all my dinners for a week that this was going to be his grand debut.

As Snotlout and I touched down, Fishlegs' voice rose above the many murmurs and confused whispers coming from half the town. "And Hiccup wins, followed not-so-quickly by Astrid and Snotlout."

The crowd gave a big cheer at the declaration.

The twins, who seemed to have been laughing their heads off at something before we landed and were just now picking themselves up, fell down and started rolling on the ground, their laughter getting even louder as I threw Fishlegs a quick glare.

Giving me his best innocent look and shrugging, Fishlegs' eyes met mine only long enough to weasel his way out of future retribution. "What? You told me to judge, so I judged."

Groaning, I turned my glare over to Hiccup, only to have my attention drawn to a very proud-looking Toothless. He was up on his haunches (which I had forgotten he could do) and smiling in triumph.

I sighed as I turned back to Hiccup. "And what was that all about?"

Hiccup patted Toothless' side. "Just reminding everyone who's the fastest dragon on Berk."

Toothless roared his agreement before settling back down on his front paws. The dragons cheered even louder, and were even joined by a few Vikings.

"So this was your plan from the start?" I asked, thinking back to why Snotlout and I had even started racing in the first place.

His grin grew a bit wider. "Pretty much. Well, ever since you all said you like flying, anyway."

Tuffnut, finally catching his breath, put one hand on Hiccup's shoulder while wiping a tear away with the other. "You, my friend, might just be a descendant of Loki himself."

Toothless hissed at the mention of the Prankster God (I guess he thought it was an insult?), but Hiccup didn't even seem like he had heard what Tuffnut had said. He was too busy recoiling and pulling up a hand to cover his nose. Toothless took a noticeable step away too.

"Ugh, do you ever bathe?" Hiccup asked, now trying to keep from gagging.

Ruffnut, who had almost recovered at this point, fell into another fit of laughter, while her brother looked almost as disgusted as Hiccup by the notion. " _Bathe_?! NO! I stay as far away from that part of town as possible! At all times! How am I supposed to make stink bombs if I smell _nice_?"

Hiccup actually did gag at this, while Toothless took another step away.

He turned to face the Zippleback. "How does your Two-Head even stand you?"

With a shrug, Tuffnut walked over to his half of the Zippleback. "Belch doesn't mind. Actually, I think he likes it."

As if to prove this, said head pushed his nose into Tuffnut's chest in a show of affection.

Hiccup and Toothless both looked at the dragon as if it had grown a second head (well, third).

I finally tried to get some answers now that I had a moment to cut in. "So how exactly did you get airborne? I thought the little kitty couldn't fly anymore."

I think the Night Fury might be getting used to this insult, because all he did was scoff. Hiccup, on the other hand, smiled and nudged his dragon. When it just stared back at him with deadpan eyes, clearly not interested in showing off, Hiccup raised an eyebrow. "Well, _I_ can't show them."

Giving a groan before complying, Toothless brought his tail in front of himself in an obviously reluctant motion.

Everyone in the crowd that wasn't behind Toothless gasped when a leather and metal tail fin was put on display.

Gobber, who must have been watching this whole time, shoved his way to the front. "So _this_ is what you've been workin' on!" He adopted a very thoughtful expression, "hmm"-ing while looking the contraption with a keen eye. "I have to say, it's more practical than all those other contraptions you've come up with."

"Even the Miniature Mobile Kill-Ring?" Hiccup's eyes narrowed when he asked this.

A few of the Vikings who understood what he meant looked down or away; I didn't recognize the (unnecessarily long) name, so I wasn't one of them.

Gobber, however, pressed on unfazed, taking it as another joke. "Of _course_ it is!" he said earnestly, inspecting the side of the saddle with all the ropes and gadgets while Toothless looked like he was having a hard time letting Gobber get close to him (probably from the smell). As Hiccup put a hand on the Night Fury's side, Gobber continued jovially. "I've never seen somethin' like this before!" he exclaimed before proceeding to describe it like a work of art. Just as he finished, he added on as an afterthought, "Plus those dragon wagons-"

"Dragon wagons?" Hiccup interrupted, his mood slightly improving at hearing the name.

Oh. So _that's_ what he was talking about. No wonder the others got so uncomfortable.

While the rest of us joined them, Gobber chuckled and continued, still unfazed. "Well, that's what _I_ call 'em, anyway. Oh! And I guess that's what all the other tribes call 'em too." Gobber rubbed the back of his neck with his hook-hand as his chuckling became less amused and more nervous. "Anyway, those things kept breakin' and burnin' whenever we tried to use 'em."

Hiccup sighed in a mix what looked to be a lot of emotions (probably mostly acceptance) at his mentor's carefree explanation. "That's because you didn't stick to the design."

Gobber shrugged. "Well you don't see that much metal just lyin' around, do you? Speakin' of which, where did you get all the metal and leather for your newest contraption?" he asked, raising half of his unibrow.

Hiccup's accusing glare melted into an embarrassed grin as he brought his own hand behind his neck. "Oh, well I kind of borrowed a few extra materials that nobody was using."

Gobber wasn't buying it. "Uh-huh. That's a _perfectly_ good reason to keep your poor ol' _master of inventory_ in the dark. Words. Explain. Now."

"W-well, I also wanted it to be a surprise. For Toothless more than anyone."

This time Gobber did buy it, chuckling as he adopted his usual smile. "Well, it sure was! And a good one at that!" He patted Hiccup on the back while most of the village (and Toothless) expressed their agreement. Once the noise had settled slightly, Gobber cut them off with a warning. "But no more surprises, Hiccup. If you want to make somethin' else for one of your dragons, you have to stop all… this." He gestured around him in a wide arc, as if that would explain what he meant.

Hiccup looked around him with a raised eyebrow. "What? The theatrics?"

"Yes! That's it! You can't go makin' a big show of your new inventions each time you come up with one! You remember what happened the last time you showed off with that bola machine of yours. I don't think Berk can handle any more of your particular distractions. Most of us have work we're supposed to be doin'!" As he finished the explanation, it looked like he was trying to see how many bystanders he could give a good glare at once.

All of the Vikings hastily cleared out after remembering the meeting they'd just left.

"I best be goin' too. Don't want Stoick on _my_ behind. Make sure you get some shut-eye, Hiccup! We've got a long week ahead of us."

Hiccup sighed and nodded before climbing on Toothless.

"Where are you going?" I asked, from the looks of it just as confused as the Night Fury he had mounted.

"Away from collateral damage."

Taking to the skies, they sped off to the forest before any of us could follow.


	8. Chapter 8: I Will Always Return

**#include stddisclaimer.h /*** **C++ lessons made that make sense for me on hiatus. Anyway, go check out Rift'Raft's stories for the original and sequel.*/**

* * *

 _"If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it's meant to be."_

* * *

"Toothless, there's something I need to tell you."

I looked at Hiccup with a raised eyebrow, at least until I noticed the faint fear scent. Wrapping my tail around him further and fanning my half to block a spray from the lake after a strong breeze, I waited for him to continue; I had to force myself to let him go at his own pace even though I _really_ wanted to know what was wrong. I didn't think anything could ruin this day for either of us, especially not after another flight. I was almost too concerned to notice how even minor breezes are unusual in the cove on an evening as calm as this one, _especially_ now that the Dragon of the Sun is so low in the sky.

Almost.

Hiccup sighed as he slightly turned away. "Alright, but please don't be mad at me. I can't really help it."

Something was clearly bothering him, and I was NOT going to make it worse. "Why would I be mad?" I asked, using the tone of my grunts more than the actual words to carry across the meaning.

Hiccup sighed again. "I have to leave the village for a few days, and you can't come with me."

My eyes widened and I bolted up, determination completely forgotten. "No!" I shouted, jumping on top of him to keep him right where he was. I am _not_ letting him out of my sight for such a long time! Not when he's this fragile! "You can't!" I said, shaking my head fiercely.

Hiccup sighed a third time, not even giving the slightest struggle. "I don't have a choice."

"Yes you do! You can just stay here!" I argued. _Of course_ he has a choice, and I wasn't going to let him make the wrong one!

He looked up to me, his pine green eyes now filled with desperation. "Toothless, you _know_ I trust you. Now I need you to trust me."

I gasped at the request, feeling a knot in my throat that choked down any arguments. That sounded so similar to what he said over a year ago, when he first changed my mind right here in this cove, that I didn't even _want_ to argue. I've already accepted that I was wrong to do all the awful things I did back then, but Hiccup told me that's not always enough. He said that sometimes, I have to accept that I _am_ wrong, in the moment, not just that I _was_ wrong. I slowly turned my eyes to meet his, only for the link to burst forth, stronger than ever.

Desperation _and_ despair were at the forefront of his mind. Apparently he doesn't want this anymore than I do. I noticed his expression get worse as I sent over a strong refusal.

Breaking the link and looking away with a heavy sigh, I used all my willpower not to give in to his begging right away. He is _not_ going to get away with this without an explanation. Reluctantly, I stood up, taking his metal paw off with my mouth as I did to make sure he couldn't run away. I took a few steps back and spoke as calmly as I could. "Explain."

Hiccup gave an annoyed look at his stump before starting. "You remember that meeting today? The one that all the villagers went to?" he asked, looking up to me when he finished.

So _that's_ what this is about. I didn't think the humans would try to take Hiccup away from me again. I hissed and shook my head.

Hiccup closed his eyes and turned away. "Toothless… please."

 _Damn_. Why does it have to hurt so much more when he _doesn't_ fight back? After a long time, I sighed and nodded, but I didn't try to keep the venom out of my voice. " _Yes_ , I do."

He sighed too. "Well, it looks like one of the other tribes found the nest after we took down the Queen. They want all the Viking tribes' leaders and heirs to gather together so they can figure out what to do."

"Why do they need to do that?" I asked, my confusion droning out my anger for the moment. I didn't understand why humans would need to do something so… well, I can't think of a word to describe it, so I tilted my head and gave a questioning grumble for clarity. (I would later find out that the word I was looking for was "human". Dragons look to their own Kings, not the Kings of other nests, for guidance.)

"They probably want to ask each other if anyone knows what happened, or what we should do now. The war is over, but no one knows it yet. They probably don't know what to make of the raids ending. I wouldn't put it past them to think that the dragons are just waiting to strike."

"But that's ridiculous! Why doesn't your King just tell them what happened?" I asked, forgetting about the language barrier for a second. Hiccup looked like he got most of it, though. All that time we spent going one word at a time is finally paying off.

"Well what's he supposed to say?" Hiccup lowered the pitch his voice and made it sound a little like the King's. "'My son and his dragon friends killed a giant Queen dragon that was controlling all the other dragons, so the war is over. By the way, he did it while he was still a brown Shadow-Blender, the same one that made all the raids worse for the last year, but he's human again, so don't blame him, because everything's alright now.' I don't think I'd make it to the summer gather alive if anyone outside of Berk knew about my secret, and if we want the best shot at peace, we can't let that happen."

"Can't he just say the war is over, and not the rest?" I asked, this time careful about each word.

He shook his head. "No. If he said the war was over, everybody would ask him how he knew. They'd hound us non-stop with messenger hawks, or even worse, show up personally to get some answers the old-fashioned way. You know how stubborn Vikings can be."

I groaned and looked down, trying to think of any way out of this. A brilliant idea suddenly hit me. "And _you_ have to go? You can't just have him pretend you're dead?"

Hiccup chuckled at this before responding. "I asked my Dad the same thing, and he said he asked _himself_ the same thing, but he thinks that would only make things worse. In fact…" he trailed off as he looked over to me and our eyes met.

The link he made lasted only long enough to show me one thing: his father's… apology? I stared wide-eyed at the image before resting my head on my paws and looking at the smooth surface of the lake. After thinking for a long time, I stood up and slowly walked over to Hiccup; I didn't want the link, but I _did_ want to make this count, so I closed my eyes and gently leaned over, pressing my forehead against his. Even though I knew he wouldn't understand me this time, I spoke anyway. "I _do_ trust you, Hiccup. I'm just worried you won't come back this time."

Hiccup gasped, and after a few seconds of trembling, he pressed back. "Thanks, Toothless."

I was about to pull back when he started scratching my neck. Before these last few weeks, I never knew how handy Hiccup's human 'hands' could be. I couldn't help but purr at the sensation. Somehow, his scratches always manage to help with my stress, no matter what caused it in the first place.

"I know this is hard for you," he said in a sadder voice than usual. At my raised eyebrow, he chuckled and lost the sadness. "Okay, okay, it's hard for me too. I promise I'll take you flying before dawn tomorrow to make it up to you."

I gasped and felt my jaw drop, having completely forgotten about _that_ little detail up until he mentioned it. After a second more of gaping, I caught myself and snorted. "You'd better."

Hiccup laughed even more at my response. "Well, at least this'll give me the motivation to make you a tail that you can use without me."

My gape, having returned at his latest crazy plan, only got wider before I turned it into a strong frown. "No!" I shook my head for emphasis. "I am _not_ flying without you!"

This time it was Hiccup's turn to be surprised. "It won't be permanent," he said, still scratching my neck and calming my nerves. "Just for when I'm not around. Or emergencies. What do you think would happen if I fell off again?"

After a few seconds of actually thinking about the idea (which, surprisingly enough, does wonders), I sighed in relief. I honestly hadn't thought of that. Maybe it'll be good to have a few extra safety measures. My relief quickly faded into confusion when I thought back to what Hiccup had said. "Now what's this about not making it to a 'summer gather'?" I asked, not quite careful about what I was saying but relying on Hiccup's ability to 'get the gist of it'.

Hiccup's face lit up as if he'd just had an epiphany. "Wait a minute! First, can you tell me if you remember anything from your time with the Queen about a Viking event that happens every ten years?"

I didn't know anything about Vikings, but the last bit of his question caught my attention. If it hadn't been for Hiccup, I wouldn't have known that a 'year' means a full cycle of the seasons, or now have a word for it, one that he can understand thanks to the whole 'being there when I made it'. I nodded before speaking. "Actually, yes. But it had nothing to do with Vikings."

Hiccup looked at me with curiosity, raising both his eyebrows very high.

I tried to find the words to explain, tapping my paw on the ground three times. Damn this would be difficult. I remember the Queen giving a three-week-long 'break' from raiding every 40 seasons. She said it was for 'our own safety', and to 'stay away from the island with a big mountain and stone carvings of human gods'. I also distinctly remember stories about some very curious younglings leaving the nest years ago during the 'break' and never returning. The Queen told us they had gone to the island against her orders, and that the Dragoness of the Moon now has them in her embrace. Nobody ever questioned her warnings after that.

I turned my attention back to Hiccup, finally finding what would hopefully be a good explanation. "The Queen made a holiday. No raids. Every 10 years." I knew he wouldn't understand it all, but I nodded anyway to show I had finished.

He took this in, thinking for a long time before responding. "This… _Thing_ is _really_ important to humans. It's just a guess, but I think that maybe the Queen, despite everything, didn't want to interrupt it. If she stopped the raids completely, then it seems like she also didn't want to exploit the vulnerable villages. It'd probably be like if the Vikings attacked the nest on the first day of spring. Or during the mating season, if the ice wasn't in the way. Plus, she's right. No number of dragons could stand up to the Vikings at the summer gather. I don't even think _she_ could have survived if she went herself."

I felt my jaw almost drop at this. "There are _that_ many humans?"

He shrugged. "Well, it _is_ a gathering of every single Viking tribe in the archipelago, even the unofficial ones, as well as any foreigners who catch wind of it, meeting at one very large, easily defensible place, so yeah."

My jaw dropped even more, before I shouted in anger. "And you're _going_ to one of these?!" I didn't know it was going to be _that_ dangerous.

Hiccup jumped at my raised voice. "No! Well, yes, but not until next summer. The one I'm going to tomorrow is going to be a lot shorter and smaller. I don't think there'll be more than thirty people at this one, and I should be back in five days." He was still scratching my neck when he explained, both his words and his 'fingers' calming me this time.

I sighed again at the thought of Hiccup leaving. "I _really_ don't want you to go."

"I know."

"It'll probably be dangerous."

"I'll be careful."

"I'm going to miss you."

Hiccup looked back to me with a sad smile and rubbed my forehead. "Me too. No matter what happens, I promise I will _always_ return."

We both gave a little start when another breeze shot through the cove, this one stronger than the last. The skies were now overcast, threatening rain, _and_ it was getting late.

"We should probably get back," Hiccup said, moving to my side and hopping onto the leather saddle, to begin our now much practiced pre-flight routine. "I have to get to bed early if you want to fly tomorrow."

Grunting my agreement, I took to the air and battled the turbulent winds, my thoughts wandering toward tonight and the rest of the time I'll have with Hiccup. It may be short, but I'll be damned if I don't make the most of it.

* * *

The sea's so calm, it's almost uncanny. Glancing around the deck of the ship to make sure nobody would see, I let my mind empty as I took a rare moment to relax, breathing in the gentle breeze and looking up at the stars.

Savage's voice broke me out of my daze. "Dagur! Chief says it's time for my shift." He nervously stepped around our 'special' helmsman, careful not to wake him, and took his place at the wheel.

Sighing and nodding, I turned to head below deck, casting one last glance at the sea as I flipped open the hatch. The waves weren't nearly as light anymore, once again rocking our ship back and forth like a ball of yarn between a cat's paws.

 _Of course it wouldn't last_ , I thought, my mind wandering back to my now much more vulnerable village. _It never does_.

* * *

 **I don't know why, but it was tempting to have Dagur think about himself in the third person.**

 **Thanks for reading, and have an interesting day!**

 **-Rambling Drabble**


	9. Chapter 9: Stoick the Chief

_**TF2 Disclaimer Mini-Series, 1 out of 5: Worth the Weight**_

 **Heavy: "Pootis claimer here! Rift-Raft. IHHS. Echoed Songs. Is good."**

 ** _Standard Disclaimer_ : This fic is based on the world created by IHHS. It is not the official sequel; you can find Echoed Songs, the _actual_ sequel, on Rift-Raft's account. Links are provided on my profile page.**

* * *

 _"Keep a stiff upper lip."_

* * *

The first thing I noticed was the scent of firewood being burned on a chilly autumn evening. It was so strong that I would have sworn Toothless' scales were being shoved up my nostrils if I weren't still half-asleep and too tired to think yet. Eyes still closed, I groaned as I pressed myself further into the warm belly below me; soon after, I realized I could smell many other things from my room when my movement stirred the wing covering me. The worn wood from all the walls was strongest, followed by the familiar scents of metal and leather. If I concentrated hard enough, I could even catch traces of the ink on my desk.

Forcing my eyes open to make sure I wasn't dreaming, I met the gaze of two _very_ large, light-green eyes that were looking at me expectantly, followed by a huff of warm air.

They widened when they met mine and their owner gave me a big, toothless smile. "Finally!" Lifting his wing to let in what little light there was at this hour and removing his hind leg from where it was resting (i.e. over my waist), Toothless began pushing me to my feet to wake me up. "No time for _ _ _, it's almost dawn!"

Making a mental note to remember that particular grunt means 'laziness', I reached over to where I had left my metal leg and strapped it on, looking over at the insistent dragon with half-closed eyes. "Why am I getting up this early again?" I grumbled out, my mind still hazy with sleep.

"Flying!" Toothless chirped, nudging me to go faster with the tip of his nose.

I bolted upright as I remembered the promise I had made to him, quickly followed by other important details that instantly removed the sleep from my body (and considering how tiring yesterday was, that's saying something).

I prepared for the day as fast as my body would let me, racing back and forth in my room, gathering my flying outfit and quickly changing into it while I turned to a large pack-sack in the back corner. I picked it up and filled it with everything I would need on the trip: clothes, a small amount of money, my dagger, some preserved food (which smelled much stronger than usual, but, rushed as I was, I hardly noticed), and just in case, a bottle of ink, a quill, a pencil, and a piece of parchment. Being the chief's son _does_ have some perks, I guess, and first pick at Johann's is one of them. Well, _was_ one of them. I'm not sure if that'll still be a thing, after all that happened.

 _Oh well_ , I thought, too excited to care. I tied the sack shut _very_ tightly, then loaded it onto Toothless' saddle before jumping on myself. When Toothless opened the door to my room, I pulled out the note I had prepared last night, attaching it to the wood with my extra dagger.

Barely patient enough to let me do this, Toothless gave a quick shake of his rump when I finished and rushed down the steps and out the front door (which I had taught him how to open after the first two times he broke it), closing it with his tail before leaping into the air and catching a large breeze.

My metal leg matched every movement he made.

* * *

A loud knock on the front door put me on high alert, making me jump from my bed and reach for the hammer on the front table.

It wasn't until my hand grasped at thin air that I remembered about the raids being over. Releasing a heavy sigh, I stood up and tried to shake off the lifetime's worth of instincts that were telling me to rush outside and hit something. Two months of peace and a year of raidless nights have helped, but I guess there are some things that I won't be able to change. Hopefully they won't cause any more problems than they already have.

Bucket's high-pitched voice reminded me why I was even up at this hour in the first place. "Chief, it's almost dawn! You told me last night to wake you up early!" His voice rose even more in sudden dread. "Were you lyin' to me?"

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at his… innocence. Instead I settled for the voice I usually save for children. I've found it works wonders on him. "No, Bucket, I wasn't lying to you. I'll be out in a minute. Thank you for waking me up." I paused as I got an idea, then spoke through the door after I'd hashed it out. "Now if you don't mind, I have something _else_ I need you to do. It's _very_ important."

I heard him give a small jump behind the door. "Oh! What is it?" he asked giddily.

It was hard not to smile at the enthusiasm in his voice, so I went ahead and did it. It's not like anybody would see. "I need you to get your things together, go down to the ship, and get it ready for launch. You think you can do that for me?"

"Of course!" he exclaimed, happy that he could help.

When I heard his footsteps retreating from the door, I felt my smile widen. _Now_ we should be ready to sail _before_ sunrise, even though we don't needing to be. A good chief knows how to get the best out of his men, no matter who they are.

Walking over to the pantry and grabbing a handful of food out of the small cupboard, I turned to the dresser for my chainmail. I didn't realize I was already wearing it until I'd spent a few minutes turning the drawers inside out. My relief dissolved and I almost fell over when I heard a voice behind me.

" _Stoick, can you_ please _stop wearin' your chiefing clothes to bed? I know you had to get up early, but this is ridiculous!"_

It was so real that I turned around right away, desperately searching for her. The disappointment didn't hit me as hard as it used to. I sighed as Val's reprimanding voice from all those years ago slowly faded away, trying not to think of the sickness that spread through the village a few months later. If I concentrate hard enough, I can still see her dark brown hair, her beautiful face, those light blue eyes…

 _NO!_ I told myself. _You'll only make it worse. Best to focus on the present._

My smile came back when I let my thoughts wander to my son. _We did well with this one, Val. I promise I won't let anything else happen to him._

With a laugh, I suddenly remembered someone _else_ who's probably thinking the exact same thing. _Or Toothless,_ I added.

"And speaking of Toothless…"

I slowly climbed the steps to my son's room and eased the door open, careful to be as quiet and non-threatening as I could manage. It's a good thing Hiccup and Fishlegs taught me the ins and outs of 'dragon behavior'. It took eight weeks (the first three I spent just trying to keep from attacking on instinct), but I think I'm finally getting a handle on it. If you don't spook 'em, dragons are as friendly as any pet. When they're not blasting fire at you, the beasts are like giant, scaly dogs.

Of course, Toothless is the exception. He reminds me more of a cat, and I've always had trouble with those bipolar fur-balls. One minute they're perfectly happy, the next they're trying to claw your eyes out. It doesn't help that he's twice _my_ size and could rip my head off in a second if he wanted to.

Glancing around the dimly lit room, I could just make out the already-made bed (which didn't look like it was slept in at all) and the empty corner that a certain overprotective dragon usually leaps from whenever I come here in the morning. First I took a few cautious steps in, then I slowly began crossing the room just to make sure it was what it looked like.

Resisting a surge of anger when I found the place empty, I searched for any clues to distract me from my temper. I let out a relieved sigh when I noticed the pack-sack was missing from where I put it last night. After a short inspection of his room to make sure that Hiccup hadn't just taken it with him without filling it first, I gave a short nod when I found his dresser empty, and walked over to his desk and lit the candle resting there to shed some light. I caught a glint of metal from the corner of my eye, and sighed when I did. There was a dagger freshly stuck in the wood, holding up the piece of paper to the _back_ of his door.

I walked over, ripping the paper from its place and bringing it back to the candle. It was almost bright enough outside to read, but the sun was still below the horizon. In the orange light, I could easily make out the carefully-written charcoal runes. After shaking off a pang of guilt at seeing the handwriting, I read over the short letter.

 _Out flying. I'll be at the ship at dawn._

 _-Hiccup_

I felt my eyes narrow in confusion, an old shadow of fear nipping at the edge of my mind until I remembered the talk of the town yesterday. I wasn't sure if it was true at first, but now I'm certain it was. And still is.

Extinguishing the candle between my fingertips, I let out another sigh before leaving the room so I could prepare my own sack. "Best not to think about it," I told myself, throwing the supplies over my shoulder and remembering how responsible Hiccup can be when he's _not_ trying to prove himself as a Viking (which, thank the Gods, he doesn't do anymore).

I took one last look at the empty living room to see if I was forgetting anything, nodding and starting to turn around when _another_ glint caught my eye. This one was above the dresser, and it stopped me in my tracks. Bolting over and grabbing the metal, I felt a surge of emotion when I saw how I had _completely_ forgotten about it. Muttering a curse under my breath, I shoved it into my sack, stepping outside and making my way through the village quick as I could.

Berk has always been quiet at this hour, at least ever since the raids ended. With only a few people beginning their day and the watch guards making their final rounds of the night with extinguished torches, it's just about as calm as it can get. The dragons were quiet too; there were many sleeping in the square, but not a single scale was moving – not until a Nadder swooped in and landed with unsettling silence on an empty patch of dirt.

I didn't recognize it until I saw the rider jump from its back.

"Astrid?" I wasn't expecting the wave of curiosity to hit me as hard as it did. I hadn't really kept up with that bullheaded group of teens ever since Hiccup came back, busy as I've been with keeping the peace between Berk's new and old residents. Well, except Fishlegs, who's been almost as helpful with the dragons as Hiccup. Taking a look at the sky, I nodded when I saw how much time we had before dawn, deciding that now would be the _perfect_ time to learn what they've been up to. I spoke just a _tad_ louder this time so she could hear me. "Why are _you_ up at this hour?"

"C-chief!" she stammered, probably caught off guard by my sudden appearance.

I'll have to remember to tell Gobber that her situational awareness needs touching up. I pressed her a little more than usual, my curiosity getting the better of me. "Well?"

Regaining her composure very quickly, she easily met my gaze as she answered. "I always get up at this hour! Pre-dawn is the perfect time for training."

I raised an eyebrow, not seeing any weapons on her other than the skinning-knife strapped to her thigh. "Is _that_ what you were doing?"

She nodded. "Yes. I was practicing mid-air rescue maneuvers with Stormfly."

Her dragon perked up when the lass said its name, nudging its rider with a happy chirp. It jumped right along with me and Astrid at the angry grunts it got from the slumbering dragons nearby.

I gestured for Astrid to follow me before walking in the direction of the docks. A grumpy dragon is almost worse than a grumpy Viking, after all, so I was careful to keep my voice low when I spoke again. "So you've been training with your dragon? Is that all Gobber's been having you do?"

Astrid looked at me in confusion before shaking her head. "Gobber hasn't been having us do anything lately. He's been too busy keeping up with all the repairs. I decided to do this on my own."

Making a mental note to talk to Gobber later, I pressed on. "And what about the others? Are they 'training' with their dragons, too?"

She sighed. "I guess. In their own way. We all practice flying, but beyond that you'd have to ask them."

I didn't have that kind of time. "Give me the short version."

She shrugged before counting off on her fingers, starting with her index. "I know Fishlegs is mostly doing research on all the dragons, especially his Gronckle. The first thing he did was teach it how to understand Norse. Meatlug picked up on it _way_ faster than I thought she would when a really old Gronckle came by and helped. Other than that, the last time I saw him he was feeding her a bunch of rocks and taking notes on the lava that came out. He said something about 'different metals' when I asked him about it."

We had reached the cliff above the docks at this point, and began slowly making our way down the planks.

Now she was on her middle finger. "I don't think Snotlout does much other than fly around as fast as he can, shouting at people and telling Hookfang to fire at things. I'm not sure how productive he's been, but he seems happy enough, and he _tries_ to keep the damage to a minimum."

We were a quarter of the way down the docks now, Bucket's bucket clear as day on board the deck of a readied ship. I grinned when I saw him smile and wave; I gave a small wave back.

Astrid didn't notice, moving on to her ring and pinky. "The twins… ugh," she rolled her eyes. "I don't even _want_ to know what they've been up to. I saw Barf drench them in gas before they jumped into the ocean and told Belch to try and blow them up."

I chuckled. "At least they learned their lesson about collateral damage the first time around." I've been playing my hand at jokes these last couple of weeks, and I think I've finally got it down. The key is timing, and making sure it's not forced.

I felt a small smile of satisfaction on my lips at Astrid's light chuckle. "Yeah, I think giving them the task of housebreaking Berk's _entire_ dragon population was a good idea. Tuff even seemed like he was enjoying himself by the end of it, but with the way Ruff was acting, I don't think they'll be making _that_ mistake again."

This time it was my turn to give another small chuckle, just now noticing the irony of the two most comedically-challenged Vikings on Berk making decent jokes. We were halfway down the cliff when I began again. "So, what have _you_ been up to this last couple of months? You said something about rescue maneuvers…"

"Oh!" she cut me off, clearly excited to tell her chief all about her latest exploits. One thing I always admired about this lass was her loyalty (which took a big beating last year, but she's done well to mend it since). "I've been practicing as many different flight patterns and useful tricks as I can. One of the first things I learned was that flying is just as dangerous as it is fun, so Stormfly and I practice test-falls and mid-air rescues more than anything else."

I _almost_ tripped over a plank when she described her training routine. "Wait, you fall off your dragon _on purpose_?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Well, it's not like I have a saddle like Hiccup. And if I don't practice as much as I can over the ocean, I'll be in even more trouble if it happens anywhere else."

I thought for a moment before I had _another_ good idea. "You should have Gobber make you one."

Astrid stopped dead in her tracks, mouth gaping as if I had just told her she could have a new axe for Snoggletog. "What?"

I nodded. "You heard me. When we get back, ask Gobber to make you and your friends some saddles." I paused when I thought of something even better. "Actually, you should ask Hiccup to do it. I'm sure he'll give you a discount, and it sounds like he's already got the experience."

The happy lass rushed back to my side when she came to her senses, bouncing with excitement. "You'd really let us do that?"

I shrugged. "I don't see why not, so long as you pay for it. The materials that we're using to fix up the other tribes' equipment _used_ to be what we used to fix our own stuff during the raids, so anything extra should be up for sale as usual." I gave a small nod, satisfied with the way things are turning out. We may still be recovering, but if I play my cards right, Berk should be able to make a good comeback this year. I turned my attention back to the lass' dragon training. "So, what else have you been doing, besides falling off your dragon?"

"You make it sound like that's all I do," she deadpanned.

I raised my eyebrow. "Well, you haven't told me about anything else."

She rolled her eyes and continued. "I try to cover all my bases. We've practiced speed, stealth, stamina conservation, evasive action, accuracy with spikes and flames, defensive, offensive, _and_ passive attack patterns, and just recently I started looking into dragon magic."

I felt my heart skip a beat at that last remark, stopping and turning to Astrid and snapping at her all at once. "Of all the irresponsible-! You _know_ how dangerous that is! I want you to stay away from that devil's work! I thought you of all people wouldn't be so reckless!"

Astrid recoiled, but held her ground. "I am _not_ being reckless! If I don't learn what dragon magic can and can't do, it'll be like asking history to repeat itself! I don't want to be ignorant and helpless like the last time. Besides, from what little Hiccup _has_ told me, the only dragons in the area that can do – well, you know, _that_ – are Night Furies, and it'll leave them drained for weeks if they do. Ever since the Queen died, Toothless has been the only dragon that can do anything to humans with magic, and I don't think he'll ever be doing _that_ again."

By the time she was finished, I could only stare, stunned by her strong refusal of her chief's orders. It lasted a bit longer when I thought about what she said, realizing that she was right on all accounts. I'd forgotten about how cautious and thorough she's always been, even back in the day… not to mention how the others _still_ follow her around, despite everything. A small part of my mind was telling me to look into this, but a glance at the almost-visible sun forced me ignored it.

If we didn't use our chance to learn more now, we could be faced with something terrible happening once again, like she said. I let out a heavy sigh before speaking, as serious and firm as a pine's roots in a storm, as every chief should be. "Alright. But only on three conditions."

Astrid nodding, almost as firm and just as serious. "Fine."

"Number One: You must report anything important immediately."

She replied evenly. "Okay."

"Number Two: Work with Fishlegs. Have him record everything you discover in his copy of the Book of Dragons. Once you're done, I'll hold a small meeting to decide what to add to the official book."

"Okay."

"Number Three: Don't start until we get back."

She tilted her head. "Why?"

"If you're going to be studying dragon magic, I think you should ask the only expert we have about it first. That means you don't start until Hiccup is here and ready to give you any warnings you might need."

We were just approaching the ship, Nadder still in tow when all was said and done.

Astrid nodded. "Fair enough. I'll tell Fishlegs at breakfast. He should be excited about it." She hopped onto her dragon, but didn't take off right away. "Anything else?"

"Actually, yes," I said, just remembering an important detail that I'd overlooked until now. "I need you to run the evacuation drill this Thorsday." Ever since an entire nest's worth of dragons took up residence in Berk, we've had to train them to hide themselves in the forests on the other side of the island in case any unexpected visitors arrived. "It'll be good practice for _everyone_ on Berk to get a feel for it without Hiccup's guidance. They almost got it right the last time I saw Hiccup lead 'em, so have them run it all afternoon if you have to, just make sure they get it down once and for all."

She nodded a final time. "Will do!"

The Nadder leapt into the sky, more graceful than most I've seen in its flight back to the village. Must be the girl's influence.

"Well, now I'm _glad_ you're takin' me on this little trip. I'd hate to be anywhere near that lassie come Thorsday." Gobber's banter stole my attention away from the retreating dragon rider.

"And why's that?" I asked, trying to keep a smile from reaching my lips.

Gobber pointed in the direction Astrid had disappeared with his hook hand. "That lass is a perfectionist! And a workaholic. I wouldn't be surprised if we came back to hear she had those dragons flyin' to the forest and back till dawn the next day!" He shuddered at the idea of missing an entire night's sleep.

I chuckled a bit at the thought. "Well, all the better that they get it down before we get back."

He shuddered again. "You try tellin' the beasts that! I don't think anyone but Hiccup could get away with somethin' like that and still have their head on their shoulders." He rubbed the back of his neck as if it would pop off right then and there.

I raised an eyebrow. Maybe I should have put more thought into this. Or maybe… of course. It _is_ Gobber I'm talking to. But just to be sure…

"Well then I better cancel the drills for this week."

I smiled when Gobber waved his hand in front of him. "Oooh I'm just messin' with you. If anyone besides Hiccup can handle 'em, it's her. And speakin' of Hiccup…" he trailed off, looking behind me to make sure he wasn't mistaken. "Where is he? I thought he'd be showin' up with you."

As if on cue, a shadow passed overhead before a light _thump_ shook the wooden planks of the dock. I hadn't even turned around before I heard his voice.

"Am I late?"

"Right on time, actually!" Gobber said after taking a glance at the now-visible sun. "Are you goin' to be wearin' _that_ to the gather?"

He rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, I was planning on wearing this _flying_ harness the entire time! I even made four extras so we could match!"

Chuckling, Gobber turned around and stepped onto the deck, now waving his hand behind him. "Alright, alright, I was just makin' sure you brought enough to spare, is all."

I looked at my son nervously. "You _do_ have your normal clothes, right?"

Hiccup laughed before giving me what he probably thought was a reassuring smile, but was a bit too similar to one he would give before getting one of _those_ ideas. "Yes, Dad. I have _everything_ I'll need." At Toothless' insistent grumbling, he added "Okay, _almost_ everything."

I sighed in relief. "Well if you're sure. Come on then, we have to set sail," I said as I turned back to the ship and walked up the gangplank. I didn't hear his footsteps behind me.

"I'll just be a minute."

Sending a quick glance over my shoulder, I boarded the ship and told the crew to prepare for launch, providing what little privacy I could for my son. It was the least I could do.


	10. Chapter 10: Focus, Hiccup!

_**TF2 Disclaimer Mini-Series, Short 2 out of 5: Holy Dooley**_

 **Sniper: "Writin's a good job, mate. It's challengin' work, always yours. I guarantee it won't go boring, 'cause at the end of the day, long as there's one person left on the planet, someone is gonna want somethin' to read."**

 **Interviewer: "What about disclaimers?"**

 **Sniper: "Disclaimers?! Look mate, you wanna know what has a lotta disclaimers? Blokes who muddy their fics up with long author's notes. Professionals have standards: be polite; be efficient; have a plan to change everyone you meet."**

* * *

 _"We all start with innocence, but the world leads us to guilt."_

* * *

Gods, I forgot how _slow_ sailing is, even with a strong tailwind and good tides. At first I was trying convince myself that the trip wouldn't be so bad, but a pre-dawn flight and a very difficult goodbye are pretty good at blocking out that kind of thinking. I _know_ it's not as bad as it feels, and it's been getting easier to deal with frustrating situations, but they still hurt like a Hum-Wing tail to the chest whenever I have to deal with them. Time to think and a friend to talk to are the two best ways to cope, so of course I don't have much of either right now. I've been forced to rely on my oldest method of _quickly_ coping: thinking that it could be a whole heck of a lot worse. After all, this has probably been the most eventful morning I've ever had on the open seas. Well, the _second_ most eventful morning, but I'm starting to think I should stop counting things that happened during _that_ time, since it's pretty unfair.

First, Dad had everyone unpack their gear in the hold. He said that the other tribes will probably do the same; he doesn't think anyone is going to be camping on the island, since it'll be much easier and simpler to sleep on the ship (and we all know how much Vikings like to keep things easy and simple).

Next he had Bucket give everyone a haircut before we could change into our gather clothes. I'm not saying I didn't need one, and I'm _definitely_ not saying Bucket doesn't have some very unusual talents (because I don't think _any_ of us have ever looked so good), but it was still one of the strangest 'orders' I've heard him give, and just about the happiest I've ever seen Bucket.

Last and least, Dad had everybody on the ship running back and forth non-stop for at least a half-hour; it took a lot of work to set things up so that we'd only need one person on deck to pilot the ship.

And did I mention I had to do _all_ of this while trying to keep my new sense of smell from distracting me? Well, I guess it would be my old sense of smell. Maybe. I still don't quite understand it, but it's almost as if I can catch scents even _better_ than I could a few months ago. Either way, I've got my old nose back and I have absolutely no clue why. To top it off, it doesn't feel or look any different on the outside, and I didn't even realize anything was different this morning until I was already hundreds of feet in the air. It might just be a fluke; Toothless was even more surprised than was after I brought it up (mostly because I never told him exactly how different a human's sense of smell is from a dragon's). When he finally understood, he just shrugged it off and said it might be an aftereffect of _that_ time. Either way, there aren't many accounts of hybrids in dragon history, and none at all of hybrids that changed back, so there's no telling what's going on.

Toothless and I decided that we'd worry about it when I returned. If it isn't temporary. But if it _is_ temporary, there's some serious sniffing I have to get out of my system before we get to Odin Island. The Sun was already half-way to high noon when Dad gave us our first break of the day, which finally gave _me_ the chance to take a few clear breaths without being distracted by a giddy Shadow-Blender's flight or loose ropes that took all my strength to tie down. Walking over to the edge of the deck, I took my first true whiff of the ocean breeze.

I wasn't expecting the huge wave of nostalgia. In an instant, I felt like my old self again. I was soaring (very slowly) above the open seas, enjoying the salty ocean air, relaxing with the winds, and feeling the warmth of the Sun seep into my body to fight the cold winter air. The blue ocean and clear skies were as wide and open as ever, even if the ocean was a little closer than usual, and all I wanted to do was chase the Sun until I couldn't chase it anymore. I closed my eyes in the sheer joy of the feeling.

I was so into the moment, so lost in memory and thought, that a single shout from behind was all it took to send a deep shiver down my spine, bringing a much less fun wave of nostalgia with it. All of a sudden, my body tried to go on the defensive, wanting to flee, ready to run for the safety of the forest and- _No! It's over! Snap out of it! Deep breaths. It's just Dad trying to get everyone's attention._

Trying to get a grip on myself, I shook off as much of the feeling as I could without drawing attention. I had to put on a blank expression, the only neutral one I could manage, when I turned to face him. Luckily, Dad had a difficult time getting Gorge and Gobber to stop talking about something, so I had a few extra seconds to get my body under control.

 _Note to self: Nostalgia might feel good, but old instincts DO NOT, and the two come hand-in-paw. Avoid in the future._

Dad's order-giving voice was enough to completely bring me back to reality. "Alright everyone, I think that just about does it. Bucket, since you've got the night shift, man the ship till lunch and then hit the sack."

"What kind of sack should I be hittin'?" he asked, looking around.

Thank the Gods for Bucket. I know it's mean, but 'half-wit humor', as Gobber calls it, can be pretty funny sometimes, and it's definitely what I needed. Gobber and Gorge must have thought so, too, because they had an even harder time keeping their reactions under control than I did.

Dad sent them both a quick glare before clarifying. "What I mean to say is that I want you to get some sleep so you can be ready for a night of sailing. Do you think you could do that for me?" At Bucket's excited nodding, he continued. "Alright then. Gobber and Gorge, get out the oars." When everyone (even Bucket) groaned, Dad cut us off. "We have to get there on time. No excuses, and no whining. I'll join you in a minute, but first... Hiccup, I have something I want to show you."

"M-me?" I stuttered, the sudden request interrupting my mental preparation for the always-fun task of rowing. "Sure!"

When he retreated through the trapdoor, I cast a glance at Gobber, who understood my silent question and only shrugged while he attached his oar hand. Looks like even his best friend has no idea what he's planning. Happy to put off rowing for a few more minutes, I dropped through the hatch myself.

Dad was almost bouncing when I stepped off the ladder, very eager about whatever it is he wanted to show me, so I smiled and followed him to his section of the hold without saying a word. The ship itself is too small (and fast) for there to be a captain's cabin, but it was very clear where Dad drew the line for his quarters. There were a few things laid out here and there, but mostly it was simple, practical, and easy to work with. It was so… _him_.

He pulled out a chair and sat down, pulling out his pack-sack with anticipation.

I felt my own smile widen as I watched him. I haven't seen him _this_ excited in a long time. My heart was racing as he ruffled through the sack. It almost stopped when a metal glint shone through the weave. It fell into my stomach when he pulled out a helmet with a crooked horn.

He held it out to me, obviously expecting me to take it. "I brought you something. To keep you safe." He straightened the right horn and held it out a little more.

Very slowly, I gripped the horns in my hands. A part of me noted how I was touching as little of it as possible. "Wow, uh, thanks..."

"Ah, your mother would have wanted you to have it. It's half of her breastplate." He tapped his own helmet. "Matching set. Keeps her… keeps her close, you know?"

My eyes widened, still staring at the thing in my hands. "I... uh..." I stammered, completely lost on what I should do. I don't have much to remember my mother by, so why in the Dragon of the Sun's name did it have to be a _helmet_?! Why not a book, or a lost toy? I'd even take a _weapon_ over this! I should have told Dad sooner, but now... I held the helmet out in front of me, and even I knew how reluctant I looked to do anything else with it.

"Don't you want it?" he asked, concern now replacing the wide smile he had just been giving me.

"Y-yeah, of course I do!" I lifted the helmet above my head and closed my eyes, praying to all the Gods that I wouldn't ruin this. I couldn't help the reflexive flinch when the metal touched my head, as if I would still get a headache for doing something so… human.

Dad let out the first disappointed sigh I've heard from him in ages, but there was something else attached to it now. Sadness, I guess? Or maybe just acceptance. "I'm not going to force you to wear it if you don't want to, Hiccup."

"N-no! That's not it, I just…" I trailed off, not knowing how I could fix this. I sighed and settled for something safe. "I know this is important to you."

A glimmer of hope came back to his eyes. "You think you need some more time?"

"Yeah," I said, avoiding contact with them.

He nodded, said "Good", and walked back to the deck.

I didn't follow him. I could hardly move at all. It was taking all my concentration to keep the helmet on my head.

* * *

I stared at my lunch without any appetite at all, moving the food back and forth with my fingers while trying to ignore the moldy scents of the hold. It's only been a few hours since the most _awkward_ moment in my entire life. I take back what I thought earlier; including all of last year on this scale _really_ helps to put some things in perspective. I know I should probably feel proud, or happy, or _something_ about the helmet on my head, but it's like my humanity is telling me to cherish it while my old instincts are screaming at me to throw it off. I can still see the disappointment on Dad's face when he didn't receive the reaction he must have been expecting.

After months of 'progress', it's like if we've suddenly come up empty, like all that work was for nothing, like a small jolt just emptied all the holes we've been trying to fill. Hopefully I can make it up to him, but for now... I took the helmet off. I tried to ignore how _right_ it felt to put it on the floor. I don't know how long I sat there just… staring at it. "This is all your fault," I said, knowing that it wouldn't leap up and bite me but feeling like it wanted to.

Dad's voice broke me from my daze. I couldn't tell if he was whispering because of me or because he didn't want to wake Bucket. "Hiccup, we need you on the deck."

"Okay." I followed him out of the hold and stood next to Gorge and Gobber, deciding that it might be best to think about something else for a while.

"Alright, time to get down to business," Dad said in his chiefing voice. "So, anyone already have something in mind?"

With Bucket asleep and out of earshot, it was finally safe to decide on the story we'll be telling the rest of the tribes tomorrow. It wasn't hard to guess that I'd be the center of attention in most of the half-gather's down time, unless another tribe brings something even _more_ distracting than a revived Viking with a metal leg.

Gobber was first to volunteer. "Oi! Over here!" When we all turned to him, he carried on excitedly. "I've been thinkin' about this all week, and it hit me like a bludgeon when I saw a Nightmare catch little Gertrude and carry her back to her mother, away from the cliff the lassie was runnin' too close to. What if we said Hiccup was kidnapped?" he asked, wearing a daring smile.

"Kidnapped… by dragons?" Dad asked.

"Exactly!" Gobber nearly shouted, before giving an apologetic smile at our glares.

The last thing we needed was for Bucket to wake up.

Keeping his voice down, he pressed on. "What if we told 'em we thought Hiccup was dead after he disappeared during that raid last fall? That a dragon picked him up and we thought he died the moment we saw him in its claws. It's almost true, and it'd match what we've already told the other tribes…" he trailed off when he saw the rest of us thinking in silence.

Despite _really_ not wanting to, I forced myself to speak up. "Dad, what _exactly_ do the other tribes know? Did you tell them that I was killed by Toothless after I shot him down, or just that some dragon killed me?"

He turned to me, a look of deep thought still on his face. "I think the only ones who have a chance of guessin' what really happened are the Bog Burglars." It became one of sorrow and regret when he adopted a formal voice in mock chiefly-ness. "I told their chief: 'My son killed by that devil. He was poisoned with its touch and consumed by it'." He sighed before explaining for the rest of us exactly what that meant. "We _have_ to include the Night Fury, and what I said _has_ to make sense to her, no matter what we decide on."

Silence followed for almost a minute; no one knew how to respond to that. I sighed, hoping to break the tension and focus on the task at hand. "So nix on the kidnapping."

Gobber let out a sigh too, nodding in agreement and trying to hide his disappointment. "Ah, I guess it was a bit out there. And we would have had to explain how you came back."

"Aye," Gorge said, joining in. "We need to be able to explain why we were _certain_ he was dead. And it should probably have nothing to do with dragons apart from that first raid, or Bertha could piece it together."

When Gorge had finished, Dad nodded and turned slightly to address us all again. "So I guess we're back to where we started. Any other ideas?"

We continued back and forth like this for a long time, the day slowly slipping away. One flawed story passed after the next, and we all sat there knocking them down as they came, almost like we were in a trance. By the time I looked up, I gasped when I saw the Dragon of the Sun already halfway down the sky.

 _Okay Hiccup, you can do this. Think!_ I racked my brain searching for an answer. I thought for a long time about everything that happened last year, memories I haven't called upon in a long time slowly resurfacing, looking for a hint, a clue, _something_ to use. My mind wandered through my transformation, my time with Toothless, my year at the nest, my single day back at Berk, my coma... actually, now that I think about it, I can hardly remember much about the coma. Everyone said it had only lasted a few days, but that's the only way I know how long I was out. All I remember is waking up in a human body that felt like it hadn't been used for an entire year. After that, Fishlegs said that if the other tribes asked about me, we'd tell them that I just woke up and I was still recovering from... my injuries...

"I've got it!"

Broken out of their dazes, everyone jumped with varying amounts of height and cursing, until they realized what was going on.

Dad replied, hopeful. "You have an idea?"

I nodded eagerly. "Yeah! What if we told them I was in a coma?"

Everybody took a moment to think about this before they each adopted the same smile I was wearing.

Gobber was the first to respond. "That just might work…"

"And it's simple enough." Gorge finished.

Dad's smile widened as he met my gaze. "So, Son, how do you think we should pitch this?"

It took another hour to grind out the details, but it wasn't nearly as bad as trying to come up with the idea in the first place, and we found that the best way to go about it was to stick as close to the truth as possible without letting out anything revealing. Thus, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III had been on the verge of a death in a magic-induced coma. It lasted over a year before mysteriously ending two months ago. He lost his leg when the Night Fury he shot down bit it off in a fit of vengeance. He woke up two months ago in the elder's hut and he's been recovering ever since.

So basically I've been asleep and useless for a whole year while all the other Vikings in the archipelagos have been fighting for their lives. Wonderful!

Eventually, Dad decided everyone was familiar enough with the story and ended the meeting, chatting with Gobber as the two went below deck. Gorge didn't follow them; he would be in charge of the ship until an hour before midnight, when he'd have Bucket take his place. Since Gorge doesn't need to get up in the morning like the 'Chief, his Heir, and his closest advisor' do, he can stay up later than the rest of us.

I was leaning on the railing and looking at the sunset, almost ready to head down myself when Gorge walked over. "Hiccup? There's something I need to ask you."

Almost on instinct, I sniffed the air as he stepped up to the railing beside me, catching _small_ traces of the fear scent (which I just now realized I could do again) that I came to realize last winter is a sign of nervousness rather than terror. Now a little nervous myself, but still trying to keep an open mind and a level head, I shrugged and nodded. "Sure. What do you want to talk about?"

Gorge sighed heavily before leaning on the railing and looking out at the turbulent waves. "I was just wondering if… you've forgiven us for what happened."

My heart almost stopped when he said that; everybody in the village, myself included, try to avoid talking about last year, unless it's unavoidable. _Nobody_ has ever come up and tried to breach the subject on their own. Until now.

"I know we don't deserve it," he conceded, "and we could spend our lives trying to make up for what's happened and it still wouldn't be enough, but you just seemed so, uh, happy lately that I don't know what to think. Not that I ever did, but now you're makin' it even harder on us. Some people think you've already put it past you, but I know that's not true. I guess I just…" he sighed again as he trailed off, before turning and matching my apprehensive stare with a determined one. All signs of the his nervousness were gone when he spoke again. "I want to know if you're ready to talk about it. If you're not, that's okay, but I don't want to go around thinkin' you're fine with everything that's happened."

Stunned by his sudden resolve, I broke the eye contact and looked out at the ocean. I watched the waves bat harshly against the side of the ship for what felt like ages as I thought about what to say. I _won't_ lie, and I _won't_ mess it up. Not this time. "I don't think I'm ready yet. I honestly don't know when I'll _be_ ready. _If_ I'll be ready."

Gorge looked back out at the ocean, too. "Alright."

"I don't think… 'Forgiveness' is the right word." A wave hit the other side of the ship, spraying the railings and tilting us more than usual. I hardly noticed. "I've done some awful things too, and I'm always trying to find a way not to think about them, so I get it." I turned to face Gorge again. "But that doesn't mean I've forgotten about the Kill Ring."

Gorge flinched and looked down, shoulders slumping and eyes closing. "I'm sorry."

I looked at him for a long time before standing up and stepping away from the railing. "Don't be. I know it's not your fault." I walked over to the latch and flipped it before lifting the trapdoor. "If it helps, I don't think we would have made it if you hadn't told me what was going on."

Gorge only nodded.

I cast one last glance at the ocean before climbing down and closing the door behind me. _That's strange,_ I thought, making my way to my gear and settling in for the night. _I can't remember the last time I saw it so calm_.

* * *

"LAND _HO_!" Bucket's voice rang high and loud through the entire ship, waking me from my dreamless sleep and, from the sound of it, waking Dad and Gobber too. I cast a lazy glance over to the pair – who were already up and about, busy gathering their things – before groaning and following suit. Slowly strapping on my leg, I stood up and glanced down to make sure I wasn't forgetting anything. Lucky for me, non-host gather-gear is pretty minimalist. As I walked through the hold to the trapdoor, I could still make out Gorge's snoring; from what Ruff and Tuff said, he's always been a heavy sleeper. Rolling my eyes before I could let one of the stories of the things they pulled on him because of it enter my head, I walked up the ladder and onto the deck to get a good view of our destination.

We weren't very close, and even though the Sun hadn't risen yet, I could just make out Odin Mountain and the green of the forest around it. The island is _very_ large, and even from here it looks imposing. I could also catch faint traces of pine on the breeze, and it takes a forest _at least_ the size of Berk's for _that_ to happen at _this_ distance.

"Everyone, prepare the ship for docking!" Dad's voice rang out, clear and commanding. "And ready your weapons! It may be highly treasonous and illegal to attack anyone at the gather, but that doesn't mean we're safe before we land! In fact, don't assume we'll be safe even after we dock, at least until we know for sure." With that, he and Gobber took position at either side of the ship before Bucket steered it to the docks.

I 'took position' at the front, not as worried about us being attacked by Vikings as he was, since there wasn't another ship for miles around. Sure, there have been stories of scuffles just before and after gathers, but it's never been much of a problem – everyone is either too excited for the upcoming mead fest or too exhausted after two weeks of partying to waste time and effort in a fight at sea. Those usually takes _way_ more thought than any Viking is willing to spare on the biggest holiday of the decade. Still, I guess this half-gather _will_ be different, so it's probably a good idea to be ready just in case.

The Sun was finally peeking over the horizon when the massive docks were close enough to make out any ships in the harbor. To our surprise, there was only one, and it was bearing sails with a picture of a black, spiny dragon, drawn to be spitting lightning at anybody who would look at it. Some part of my memory triggered and the name 'Skrill' came to mind, while another part registered the image as the Berserker insignia. I'll have to remember to ask Toothless what that dragon species is _actually_ called later.

Dad let out a relieved sigh. "Looks like Oswald is already here. Bucket! Pull us in right next to that ship."

"Okay, Chief!"

As we eased into the docks, an unusual scent caught my attention: I could smell signs of foul air. Not in the sense that something smells bad, but that the air itself was tainted. It's something I've only experienced a few times before, when I flew too too high or took to the air right after a storm. It wasn't exactly unpleasant, in the same way that the smell of smoke isn't unpleasant in small amounts, but I couldn't really think of another way to describe it. At least, not until I got a clear view of the other ship's deck. Curled up and sleeping peacefully on the planks, there was a something large, spiny, and purple-black in plain view, _definitely_ the source of the scent. The Berserkers had brought a dragon to Odin Island.


	11. Chapter 11: Meet Dagur

**_TF2 Disclaimer Mini-Series, Short 3 out of 5:_** ** _What? It Was Obvious!_**

 **Spy: _(Clears throat)_ "Uh-hum. Gentlemen." ( _Looks around the room.)_ "Tell me, did any of you happen to see a disclaimer on the way here? No? Then we still have a problem."**

 **Scout: "Oooooh, big problem. I've written plenty of disclaimers! They're a dime a dozen boring-ass courtesies. Like yours! No offence."**

 **Spy: "If _you_ managed to write them, I assure you they were _not_ like mine, and nothing, _nothing_ like the ones of the author loose inside this website! These disclaimers have already breached our defenses. You've seen what he's done to our colleagues! And worst of all, his next one could be about any one of us. It could be _you_. It could be _me_. It could _even_ be Rift-Raft!"**

* * *

 **A/N: (Something about Savage being the only one _not_ OOC)**

 **And cheers for not-dumb!Dagur. I hope you all enjoy reading him as much as I enjoy writing him!**

* * *

 _"We don't see things as they are, we see things as we are."_

* * *

"Hooligans incoming!" Savage's annoying, raspy voice rattled me from my doze on the deck of my ship. Lucky for him it didn't have the same effect on my Skrill.

Shaking the rest of the sleep from my body, I sighed and stood up, walking down the gangplank to the wooden boards of the wide dock. I looked out to the ocean to confirm the red, serpentine dragon painted clearly on incoming sails. "I suppose I _should_ call my _father_ up here, shouldn't I?" I asked, rolling my eyes before taking a better look at the ship hoisting those sails.

"I'll get him right away, sir!" Savage said, not catching the sarcasm. What a surprise.

I let out another sigh, knowing it'd be pointless to stop him. I guess, despite everything, it probably _would_ be _slightly_ helpful to have someone so 'agreeable' around when the other tribes arrive and see our second 'helmsman'. I, for one, don't see the problem with a little intimidation. In fact, I _was_ going to hop around the island with my harnessed Skrill – you know, just for a bit of fun – but we _had_ to be the first ones to arrive, didn't we?

 _Oh well,_ I thought, a grin crossing my lips. _There's always next time._

"Stoick's here?!" I heard from below deck, followed by a lot of shuffling and a harshly opened hatch.

If there's one thing my father has that I _don't_ hate, it's enthusiasm. Too bad he doesn't share mine when it comes to fun things. As he rushed from our deck and stood beside me in order to see the towering chief of the other tribe for himself, I couldn't find a single other reason why he might be the better leader. There really is no comparison between the two; where Stoick the Vast has height and power behind his size, Father's… vastness leaves a lot to be desired. Mostly muscle.

Waving an excited hand back and forth, he called out to his ally in a loud voice that I rarely hear from him anymore. "Stoick! You made it!"

The Hooligan ship began to pull into the harbor, obviously planning to park next to ours. I suppose that's fine though. Better them than any of the other tribes, at least.

"That we have!" Stoick exclaimed, dropping the gangplank and stepping down to greet my father. "It's good to see you again!" He grasped my father's shoulder, smiling widely.

That's strange. From what I've heard, Stoick the Vast doesn't do that anymore.

The smile left his face when he turned to me.

Now _that's_ more like it. I've always known he doesn't like me, but at least it's good to know that he's still the Hooligan chief _I_ remember, and not some sappy suck-up who can fake a smile when he needs to.

"I see you brought your son along," he observed, just to make sure I got the message.

Hmph. Still the spoil sport. He might not be nearly as bad as my father, since he certainly _isn't_ an awful Viking chieftain, but it's not like I care what he thinks anymore. Soon, it'll be time for a _new_ name to be hailed across the archipelago. For now, I just shrugged and pretended not to notice.

"Yes, I followed that letter _to_ the letter!" My father weakly chuckled before his expression fell. "I'm sorry you can't say the same, my old friend."

Stoick… laughed?

"Actually, you can!"

 _WHAT?!_ My eyes shot up faster than lightning, tearing apart their deck until they found the scrawny figure in question.

Sure enough, and just as tiny and pale as usual (or maybe a _little_ less than usual, it was hard to tell), there he was, alive and well and looking for all the world like a nothing had happened. A little part of me died when I didn't see any signs of the undead, draugr rot anywhere on him, and the rest of me was at a loss for what to think after that.

Hiccup caught my stare and briefly returned it, adding a hesitant smile and wave.

My mind was drawing a blank while my father shouted in surprise. "He's alive?!"

"And right here," Hiccup drawled, probably annoyed at how my father was talking about him like he wasn't there. Keeping up with Hiccup's attitude was just about all my mind could manage while it _still_ drew a blank everywhere else.

"But you told us he was killed by a dragon!" my father exclaimed, not catching the hint.

"Aye, that I did," Stoick replied morbidly, adopting a heavy frown and a look of depression even worse than when Father had asked him about his wife all those years ago. "I thought he was. Everyone on Berk did. Well, everyone except Gorge and the elder. They both thought he'd pull through, but I'd given up hope long before I got to your trading island."

"What happened to him?" I asked, my mind finally working again, but now _completely_ confused about all of last year. If his son wasn't _definitely_ dead, I don't see how Stoick the Vast could have said what he did to the Burglars. I'll have to do something to Johann if the stories don't match up.

Hiccup decided he would answer this time. "If we tell you, could you help spread the word to make it easier on us? We _were_ going to wait for everyone else to show up."

Stoick looked back to his son and nodded. "Aye, that we were. It's difficult enough as it is to tell it once over. You mind lendin' us a hand, Oswald?"

Father laughed before clasping his shoulder. "With all the help you've been giving us lately, it'd be downright unforgivable to refuse!"

I rolled my eyes and interrupted the 'old friends' chat. "Alright, alright, just get on with it already! I want to know how he survived a Night Fury!"

I heard Hiccup give a sigh of defeat and walk over to the edge of the ship (with a limp, apparently), giving the rest of us a weak glare before staring out at the ocean. Come to think of it, I used to pretend that he couldn't hear me _a lot_ , once upon a time. Ah, those were the days.

"Patience, Dagur," my father patronized.

It took everything I had to keep my temper in check, and more. Luckily, a 'people person' taught me a few good tips on how to do it a few months back. I slowed down my breathing, counted to ten in my head, and pushed out a "fine," through gritted teeth. One of the first things I learned from my Skrill was that, sometimes, I have to swallow my pride to get the things that I want. A small smile of satisfaction crossed my lips when I succeeded.

Hiccup gestured at his father to continue, obviously uncomfortable about it himself – even more uncomfortable than Stoick, and that's saying something.

Stoick took a deep breath. "The simple answer is dragon magic," he began, pausing for a moment while Savage, who was now on the planks behind me, my father, and I all gasped in unison.

Savage recovered first. "Dragon magic? Could you be a bit more specific?"

Stoick nodded. "After my son shot that dragon down, the beast freed itself and pinned him to the ground. It fired off a few shots to keep the rest of us away, but once it started doing what it was doing, it didn't need to keep that up. It, uh, _changed_ Hiccup. Before we knew it, the dragon had rushed into the forest and Hiccup was… lying on the ground, not moving. You already know about what happened to T-" he cut himself off and paused.

It was almost like he was catching himself from saying something.

"To the Night Fury, so I won't go into detail about that."

Never mind. Probably just some lingering shame at letting them escape.

"Anyway, my son was like that for a whole year. He didn't wake up from his coma until about two months ago."

There was no filter between my mind and my voice when I realized he was already done. "That's _it_?!" I glanced over to Hiccup, who was looking out to the ocean in a daze. I all but leapt in triumph when I noticed the metal where his foot was supposed to be. "Then what happened to his leg?!" I asked, pointing to it.

Hiccup jumped, probably not expecting the question, before smiling and rubbing the back of his neck with a nervous chuckle.

Stoick looked at me with curiosity before responding evenly. "The beast bit it off. Probably in a fit of vengeance."

When I met his gaze with determination, I noticed that something was different about that last part. He didn't seem so… genuine with that response. The rest of his story sounded true enough, but this was too calm, too controlled, like I was talking to a very seasoned liar. I could tell he was hiding something. It's a good thing I don't take stories at face value anymore. I wouldn't be where I am today without my skepticism.

Still, I was careful not to let on that I had noticed as I pressed just a little further. "So that's it? Nothing else? That's the big secret behind the resurrected 'Viking'?"

Hiccup raised an eyebrow at the term, but the dirty, probably smelly man who had been quietly watching from the deck of the Hooligan ship cut in for the first time. "Are you really goin' to call _that_ a Viking?" he asked, gesturing in a wide arc at Hiccup and chuckling.

I rolled my eyes. "There's this little thing called sarcasm, smelly old man. You should look into it."

He raised half his unibrow at me. "Now, now, I was only playin' along," he warned. After a second of looking at me with disturbingly keen eyes, he grinned, opening his mouth to add something right before Stoick cut him off.

"Don't encourage him, Dagur. I don't think Gobber needs any help with _that_ particular subject."

Gobber's grin became a little wider. "Aww, you're makin' me blush!"

"Gob _ber…_ " Stoick warned.

His (and I'm just taking a wild guess here) closest advisor shrugged, walking down the gangplank to stand behind his chief. "Alright, alright, I'll let you get on with it."

Stoick shook his head, muttering something about not having to deal with this when 'Spitelout' is around, before turning back to us. "Anyway, that's really all there is to it."

 _Yeah right._

Stoick glanced at our ship before addressing my father, his expression _completely_ solid and stubborn. "Now, I think it's only fair if we ask a few questions of our own." Everything about him – his body language, the tone of his voice, the simple language – was screaming strength.

Gods, WHY couldn't _he_ have been my father?!

'Oswald the Agreeable' couldn't match his gaze (of course), looking down while speaking up with an embarrassed smile. "So long as you help spread the word for us too. But if it's about what I think it is, I'm not the one you want to be talking to." He gestured in my direction, not even casting a glance back.

Gobber smiled, interrupting what his chief was about to say to me. "Well! I didn't know you had it in you, Savage! And here I thought all those years on Outcast Island had gone to waste!"

My eyes shot over and met Gobber's. I know that look, that mixture of challenge and mischief that says "bring it on" without words. So, he wants to fight, does he? This half-gather might not be so bad after all.

As usual, it all went over Savage's head. "Oh, n-no, it's not me you want!"

Gobber was quick to interrupt _him_ too. "Well who else is there? I doubt your ship took it down all by itself!" he said with a small chuckle.

Even my father laughed at this. Damn. I haven't had good competition in a while. I need to start catching up, and fast.

Savage must have pointed at me, because Gobber's face lit up in mock surprise. "Dagur?! Well I'll be! I didn't think you had it in you!"

I rolled my eyes. "That's because you _don't_ think."

Gobber shrugged. "Most Vikings would take that as a compliment, you know."

"Yeah, the stupid ones."

" _Oof_ , you sure know how to pull your punches," he said with exaggerated sarcasm. "Did you even hear what I said?"

"Enough!" Stoick cut in, ending round one.

 _Gobber: 1, Dagur: 0. Damn._

"I'm going to make this very simple. Would one of you three _please_ tell me what a dragon is doing on your ship? Actually, let's start with what _kind_ of dragon it is. It's not often that _I_ don't recognize a dragon species, so I think we should get that out of the way first."

"I don't see what the big deal is," I said, keeping my face neutral as I answered. After a few months of fun with my fellow Berserkers, I've found that it's the best way to get a rise. Time for a comeback. "It's just a Skrill." I couldn't help the small smile of satisfaction at seeing Gobber's reaction, mirrored by his chief's. I would have milked their dropped jaws and wide-eyes for a good laugh if something else hadn't distracted me first.

Hiccup didn't seem surprised. At all. I think he's the first person I've ever met who didn't react to the name in the slightest. I guess my Skrill wasn't helping much, sleeping with a satisfied look on its face rather than snarling like it usually does when I tell others what it is, but even the half-wit helmsman that's been tying up the ship jumped at the name. Something isn't adding up.

 _Maybe it's the dragon magic,_ my mind reasoned. Deciding to look into it later, I waited for Gobber to butt in, ready for another round, but his chief wasn't too keen on letting me have any more fun.

"Weren't they driven to extinction over three centuries ago?" Stoick asked, just as practical as usual.

I was about to answer when Hiccup decided that _now_ would be the perfect time to gasp. "They were _what_?!" he exclaimed, almost in disgust and definitely in shock.

Not the _typical_ response to that sad fact, _but_ … I said the exact same thing when my father told me of the depressing end of the Berserkers' greatest triumph, so I guess I can't really blame him for waiting.

Stoick, all of the sudden the embodiment of caution, flinched and turned to him. "Son, it was a very long time ago, so I'm not clear on the details, but could you try to… be calm about this?" With a meaningful (almost pleading?) stare, he waited for his son to nod before he continued, but not before letting out a heavy sigh when he did. "Well, I only know what my father's father told me, but from what I gather, every tribe in the archipelago got fed up with the Berserkers at the time, and that's when they…" he trailed off, then sighed again and turned to my father. "Oswald, would you mind explaining it? You should know more about this than anyone."

My father, probably expecting that, cleared his voice in preparation for the tale that almost every Berserker knows by heart. "Long ago, before any of our times – even before the last half-gather was held – a small, unofficial tribe gathered an army of Skrills, harnessing them with ropes and using their fearsome strength to begin a conquest of these archipelagos. With the Skrills' unmatched destructive lightning and lack of a shot limit, the devastation was great. It didn't take long for every non-Berserker in the region to hate us. Since the other tribes couldn't fight human-controlled dragons, they decided to destroy our strength at the source. Massive, decades-long hunts began with the single goal of eradicating the species. I've even heard tell of a large pair of dragons that _helped_ them do it, stealing away many Skrill hatchlings and killing them. When our strength was dwindling, we finally considered a peace treaty. All the Skrills were gone by the time the Berserkers were officially recognized as the 5th Viking Tribe of the archipelago. When the dust had settled, we decided to start asking foreigners if they'd seen any Skrills in other lands. We stopped asking a few generations back, since we got the same answer every time. After that, everybody just assumed that Skrills were gone for good – that they only ever inhabited these archipelagos, and that they went extinct after the hunting parties took most of 'em out.

Even if he was about to finish, I interrupted anyway. "It's a shame, really. The most powerful dragon species in existence was wiped out, just because we forced the other tribes into a corner."

Hiccup obviously wasn't happy about this, but nodded anyway before looking back to our ship. "So if they're extinct, what's one doing on your ship?"

"Making a comeback, hopefully." At Hiccup's raised eyebrow, I explained. "A few months back, after your father and, um… Snottysnout, was it? About two weeks after they gave one of our best trading partners some aid, stopping a raid led by that brown Night Fury," – an involuntary shiver ran down my spine when I thought about the deadliest dragon to ever join the war, but I kept it from showing – "an iceberg showed up on the shores of the Berserker mainland. I knew it was a sign from the Gods when I saw what was trapped inside."

Father interrupted, giving his unnecessary two-coppers. "I'll say! I don't think you slept for a week after you heard about the Skrill, claimin' it as your own and chippin' away at that ice non-stop like you did."

I pumped as much sarcasm into my voice as I could when I turned to him. " _Thank you,_ father, for your _valuable_ input."

He smiled and nodded, probably thinking this was one of the few times that I actually thanked him for something. He obviously didn't catch the sarcasm. What. A. Surprise.

Gobber _finally_ joined in again. "Now hold on. How'd you manage to keep your head on your shoulders when the beastie woke up?"

"Maybe I wouldn't have," I said with a cocky grin, "if the Skrill's favorite food hadn't _still_ been a national secret at the time. Lucky for me, it's been closely guarded by our chiefs for generations. Of course, now everyone knows thanks to Johann, but it's not like it matters anymore."

Hiccup, now much less angry, especially after hearing where the Skrill came from, asked something that caught me a bit off guard. "So how did the raiding dragons react to your new… friend?"

My father and Savage adopted equally eager grins, looking like they wanted to jump in. Of course, they knew the consequences if they did. A single glance my way was all it took for them to keep quiet.

I had to ignore them after that, too busy with keeping _myself_ under control after when I started to explain. "They _hated_ him! I've never seen anything like it! They never even tried to raid us again after the first time, once they saw just how outmatched they were. Maybe it would have been a different story if one of the Night Furies had been there, but since they _weren't_ , we had free reign. Anyway, it was _easily_ the most thrilling fight of my life! Nothing compares to hopping around the battlefield and blasting everything in the sky with lightning. And the best part: my Skrill hated the other dragons as much as we did! He even blasted any dragon that came near the island afterward, no harness needed! Well, up until two months ago, anyway. That's the only reason why I agreed to come to this half-gather. To find out why he stopped. I even caught him, and I know this sounds crazy, _talking_ with a little green Terror a while ago."

My father snorted when I brought up this old argument.

I sent him a glare. "It scurried away when I got close, but I swear there was a pattern in those grunts. They were even taking turns! Of course, none of the tribe believes me, since they were all too busy making up stories about a Nightmare, but I know what I heard!"

None of the Hooligans looked very surprised by this, and it was Hiccup who broke the short silence. "So, you think you saw your dragon talking. Want to put it to the test?"

"Um… what?" I asked, my mind still recovering from the rush of adrenaline I get whenever I recall that battle.

Hiccup shrugged, ignoring the very nervous glances from his tribesmen. "I'm curious too, and I want to see if you're right. You _know_ you're right. So, all we have to do is prove it. Right?"

Now _very_ curious about what that dragon magic did to him, I raised an eyebrow before probing. "And how, exactly, are we going to do that?"

"Well, there's only one way to find out, isn't there?" he asked, walking down the gangplank and being very careful where he stepped until he made it onto the dock.

After a moment's consideration, I shrugged. It's not like I have anything to lose, especially if it's just _Hiccup_. "Well, _I'm_ fine with it. But don't blame me if you get hurt."

His father grabbed his arm before he could make another move. "Son, do you _really_ think this is a good idea?" he asked, giving him _that_ stare again.

Hiccup shrugged off his father's grip before speaking in a voice that almost had _me_ reassured. "Relax, Dad, I'll be fine. I don't think Dagur will hurt me."

Stoick shook his head. "You _know_ that's not what I'm worried about."

I snorted. " _That's_ a first."

Hiccup rolled his eyes at me before turning back to his father. "I promise I'll be careful. Just trust me on this. Okay?"

Stoick stared at his son for a long time, but eventually gave in, taking a step back and letting him pass.

Hiccup's voice rose a little, probably in anticipation, as he called back to his father. "And who knows? Maybe we'll be able to work out the mystery of this Skrill _before_ the other tribes get here. Wouldn't _that_ be something?" he asked, making his way to me and still ignoring the concern of his tribesmen.

Savage and my father were looking at Hiccup like he'd grown a second head when he passed them, and I _almost_ did the same, but a curious grin felt more appropriate. If he wanted to approach the dragon that took _weeks_ for my bravest warriors to do the same, and my coward father much longer, _I_ certainly wasn't going to stop him. In fact, I think it'd be _much_ more fun to just sit back and watch.

Just before I could put my foot on the gangplank, Stoick's voice caught everyone's attention. "I think it's time for the rest of us to make our way onto the island anyhow." He started walking down the docks, Gobber in tow, soon followed by my father and Savage. He turned to look at us as he passed. "If anybody else arrives, send them our way. And make sure you make it there yourselves _before_ the opening ceremony."

Hiccup nodded. "Will do."

I just rolled my eyes. Ceremonies are so tedious.

While the three of them took off in the direction of the island, I motioned Hiccup to follow me onto the deck. I almost tripped over the gangplank when he didn't hesitate for a moment. He didn't even twitch. When we were both on the deck and he was intensely inspecting my dragon (without getting too close), I decided to silently inspect _him_ one last time. I couldn't decide if his confidence reminded me of a skilled hunter, or oblivious prey.


	12. Chapter 12: Odin Hall

**The gaze of Rift-Raft is a piercing one. To put yourself within it is a risk; it isn't always easy, but it** _ **is**_ **always worth it.**

 _ **Standard Disclaimer**_ **: This fic is based on the world created by IHHS. It is not the official sequel; you can find Echoed Songs, the** _ **actual**_ **sequel, on Rift-Raft's account. Links are provided on my profile page.**

* * *

 **Two important scenes happen at once. I decided not to create a second fic to post one of them.**

* * *

 _"Make waves."_

* * *

It was _supposed_ to be a routine inspection of the island before the other tribes arrived – just a quick tour of all the important sites to make sure nothing _too_ bad happened to the place after another ten years of solitude. Can't have last gather's dragon "ambush" happening again just because we're too lazy to be thorough about it. Now that I think about it, that was probably more our fault than theirs. Maybe this time we'll leave some eels in the mountain, just to let any wild dragons know that the place is off limits.

Everything _outside_ the mountain seemed to be in order – the statues of the Gods were all undamaged and upright (Odin was in the middle and facing away from the mountain, with Thor on His right and Loki on His left), the two stone stages just in front of them were still standing, and the forest looked just as large and wild as usual. We probably would have cut down more of it by now, if we didn't have to catch so much wild game to keep everyone fed and happy during normal gathers.

Savage (who I need to ask Oswald about later) went to the outhouses before we started heading to the mountain, saying he should be the one to "inspect" them. Nobody argued when he volunteered. Say what you want about him; Savage _does_ have _damn_ good timing.

Once it was down to the three of us, Gobber and Oswald followed me into Odin Hall. It's the only real "building" on the island, if you could even call it that. Centuries ago, the first Vikings used the natural cavern at the base of Odin Mountain to sign into effect our primary laws and officially begin our way of life. The laws have been added to at every gather ever since. They say the cave was carved out a bit more with each new law, but that must have stopped long before I became chief. When we couldn't change the caves anymore, all that was left was redecoration. There's not much left to be done to the place now – it was even furnished by Trader Johann with some exotic and _very_ expensive chairs not too long ago. Vikings spare no expense when it comes to looking bigger and stronger than everyone else.

I don't do that much of that myself anymore; I've made too many mistakes as it is.

Still, that doesn't mean I don't understand why each tribe but the Outcasts paid the 100 gold pieces for their own pair of 'chief chairs', one for the Cavern – the biggest, oldest, and most open part of Odin hall, and first room you see when you enter the mountain – and one for the signing room. I guess Alvin's alright with sitting a bit lower than the rest of us if it means he can use the money for cheaper shows of strength. It's fitting, too. Won't stop his vote on the council or anything, but I'm not complaining. I still don't know how Norbert the Nutjob managed to fit all the old furniture on that raft of his. He wouldn't even let his tribe take any of it for him, paranoid as he was about them stealing it before he could start handing it out. He almost tried to take his new chairs with him, claiming to be fine with sitting on the floor, but we had to draw the line somewhere.

Once we finished making sure that the furniture was in as good a condition as Johann promised it'd be after ten years, we moved on to the rest of the Hall. We inspected the Hall's armory (which was _very_ well stocked, but still hasn't been used in centuries), the kitchen, the signing room, and we were just about to make our way out the front doors again when they burst open on their own, causing a loud echo that bounced off every wall in the Cavern.

Four soaking wet, _terrified_ Meatheads dropped to the ground at the threshold, obviously out of breath and still (for the life of me I never figured out how) managing to scream at the top of their lungs. I caught something about a draugr and a purple, Viking-eating demon, but a minute of trying to make sense out of nonsense was all I could take.

It seemed Oswald had the same idea, because we both spoke over the chaos at the same time. "ENOUGH!"

The exhausted Vikings collapsed to the floor, now even more out of breath, and definitely grateful for the chance to catch it. Oswald and I exchanged a glance before he gestured at me to continue.

I nodded and turned to our hosts. "Now if it wouldn't be _too_ much trouble, I'd like for ONE of you to tell me what's going on." They were all about to start talking again when I cut them off. "Thuggory! That means you!"

The heir to the Meathead tribe was still panting heavily, and only let out a few short words in between gasps. "A purple demon," _pant_ "a draugr riding it," _pant_ "and a devil hanging from it!" _deep breath_ "Attacked our ship!" _deep breath_ "We jumped overboard!" _pant_ "Swam here!" _pant_ "Run!"

I've had just about enough of trying to think through madness. "CALM DOWN! You're not making any sense! Take a moment to catch your breath. All of you!"

They all nodded and promptly rolled onto their backs, chests still heaving.

"Gobber, go get us an unopened barrel of wine from the kitchen. It _should_ still be safe to drink." Wine is one of the only things we can leave here for a whole decade that _won't_ spoil. It might not be mead or ale, but nobody was complaining when we got that good deal from Johann.

"I'm on it!" Gobber seemed to be enjoying every minute of this, wearing a smile bigger than any I've seen on him in a long time. He was so engaged that he'd managed to keep his big mouth shut this whole time, at least until he answered me. Before he disappeared into the kitchen, he called back to us. "And here I thought we _left_ the twins back on Berk."

I sighed. "Not even _those two_ could do something like this."

All I heard was a chuckle before he disappeared completely into the other room.

Now that I had it, I took the chance to get a good look at the Meatheads. They were all still panting and extremely tired, but I couldn't spot a single fresh wound anywhere on them. When I was absolutely sure that they weren't _physically_ hurt, I decided to do a head count. First and easiest to put a name to was Thuggory, Mogadon's heir. Next were… Porkbelly and Beefbelly, I think, two middle-aged Meathead helmsmen. Last, there was Slackjaw, one of Mogadon's best men and a damn fine tactician. They were all lying on the ground, all… _four_ of them. Seems I'm missing a head.

So, Mogadon didn't run from the 'demon', then? That's not surprising. That old dog is the most fearless Viking I know; between the raids hitting his tribe the hardest and all the nest searches, it's a miracle he made it through the end of the war. If it hadn't been for the last-minute scramble to leave, I probably would have felt a lot more relief than I did when we found his message.

After another minute of waiting, Gobber finally returned with a barrel, lid already off and cup-hand already half-empty. From the wide smile still on his lips, I could tell he was going to enjoy this as _much_ as he could.

I took the barrel and set it on the floor in front of the Meatheads. "Now, I want each of you to drink _just_ enough to wet your lips. I need you to be sober if I'm going to get to the bottom of this."

The exhausted Vikings didn't need to be told twice, each taking a mug and downing it before Oswald and I could even take a sip of ours. They were about to reach for another round right alongside Gobber when I grabbed the now half-empty barrel and set it aside.

I turned back to the youngest of the bunch so I could get an explanation as soon as possible. "If you need more time to catch your breath, Thuggory, take it. Don't make me stop you a second time."

I heard him swallow before he shook his head. "N-no, I think I'm ready."

"Alright then. Tell us what happened, from the beginning, and don't leave anything out."

A loud bout of laughter from outside stopped him before he could even start.


	13. Chapter 13: A View to a Skrill

_**TF2 Disclaimer Mini-Series, Short 4 out of 5: Overalls**_

 **Engineer: "There's a disclaimer creepin' around here!"**

 **Spy: "I think not."**

 **Engineer: "... I'M GONNA LAY YOU OUT!"**

 **Spy: "Oh please-"**

 _ **(shotgun round goes off)**_

 **Engineer: "Gotcha! Let's see now... 'Rift-Raft owns IHHS'. Well that there is a fine piece of work."**

 _ **Standard Disclaimer**_ **: This fic is based on the world created by IHHS. It is not the official sequel; you can find Echoed Songs, the** _ **actual**_ **sequel, on Rift-Raft's account. Links are provided on my profile page.**

* * *

 _"Thinking is like hunting. If you want to do it right, you have to take it slow."_

* * *

I awoke from a very peaceful night's sleep on my human's water-nest to the smell of a delicious hare right in front of my nose. This morning's off to a good start already. Not even opening my eyes, I grabbed the snack and swallowed it whole. I don't know how my human does it, but each one he gives me tastes better than the last.

I was still licking my lips when I opened my eyes, only to find a _new_ human staring at me – a very strange human. He didn't seem or smell afraid. At all. Not only that, he was giving me a look I haven't seen since the day I was freed of that accursed ice; it was the same look my human had been giving me that day – one of interest and hope. It was so unsettling that I jumped to my paws, giving him a quick snarl and a very weak spark to the chest, which I've found is the best way to deal with humans that get too close without my permission. My jaw dropped along with my human's when he dodged it and laughed. He _laughed_!

"Well, that's one mystery down!" he proclaimed after his laughter died down. "And here I thought it'd take a lot longer to learn why you didn't fly off the second you got the chance." He pointed his paw at my human. "You're just like him!"

Okay, hold on. Is it just me, or is a human _actually_ trying to talk to me?

And he just kept on talking. "Of course, he didn't use lightning, just daggers. So, did you enjoy your nap?"

My jaw dropped even lower when I heard this. No human has ever spoken to me, not even _my_ human! Now, out of nowhere, a human I've never even met before is talking to me as casually as a dragon would? Actually, not even most _dragons_ speak like this to me (a perk of being a Storm-Chaser), and the ones that _do_ usually carry a fair amount of size or experience. This human isn't even medium-sized, let alone intimidating. He looks more like a hatchling who barely made it past his first winter, and he's not afraid _at all_?

My human seemed just as confused as I was, though for a different reason, when he broke the long silence. "Um, what are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" the human asked, as if it were obvious. "I'm talking to your dragon. You said you wanted to see if it could, right?"

Okay, now I'm _very_ confused.

"Well, yeah, but I'm not even sure if _he_ can talk to other dragons, and here you are, acting like _he'll_ understand Norse."

Oh… so they _don't_ know, after all. _Well, I guess that makes sense,_ I thought, considering how much the humans back on the island would talk about me right in front of my face. And here I thought they got the message after the first few times I zapped them. Looks like they didn't get the one I was trying to send. And speaking of sending messages, I decided _not_ to deal with his choice of pronouns this time around. If he didn't get it the first twenty times, he won't be getting it now. At least he's not calling me an "it" anymore. He did get _that_ message.

The other human put on a mischievous smile as he raised an eyebrow. "Well, how do you _know_ that he doesn't understand Norse? Have you ever asked him?" The human laughed again when mine just stuttered and mumbled, unable to answer the question.

Giving up, my human threw his paws in the air. "Fine, you want to make a fool of yourself, I won't stop you!" He walked over and grabbed another hare, throwing it high so I would have to jump to catch it. He sat down before giving a final warning. "But don't blame _me_ if you get zapped again!"

"I won't," the human said, a grin still on his lips. He took a step closer with a confidence that I've never seen on any approaching human other than my own.

I looked down at him, now extremely curious. I still couldn't detect even a single trace of the fear scent. After over a full season with the humans, the fear scent has been one of the few things that I've come to accept as routine, _especially_ with humans I've never met before. _Not_ catching it is… weird. And what's even _weirder_ is how his scent _almost_ reminds me of a dragon's. How does a human _do_ something like that? I _would_ think that it was thanks to some ungodly act of hate and murder, but this human doesn't look like he'd hurt a fly, let alone a Shadow-Blender. You know what, maybe I should just say that his scent is very new and interesting and move on. After all, it's not a _bad_ scent, just completely contrary to everything I know about humans.

Finally settling on what he wanted to say, he smiled and met my gaze. "Well, here goes nothing. Can you understand me?"

I stared at him for a while longer. I've been _dying_ to talk to somebody – _anybody_ –ever since I woke up. Eavesdropping on humans gets old after a while, and it's not like humans can understand (or I guess even know about) dragon language. Believe me, after a few weeks of figurative (but _certainly_ not literal) silence, I learned _that_ fact quick enough. I was desperate enough to ignore the warnings I received along with my Norse lessons, the warnings against ever letting the humans know that we were teaching their language to our young, but it didn't even matter, since the language barrier goes two ways. One conversation with a green, flightless Little-Biter doesn't make up for an entire season of silence, even if it _was_ extremely fascinating and earth-shattering and mind-boggling and… you know what, just see for yourself:

" _So_ that's _why you were attacking us?"_

" _Yes!" he chirped, still relieved that I no longer blasted approaching dragons on sight. "At the time, we were still under her control."_

" _Well that's just… hold on." It's been a while since I could detect the malice and evil in dragons that neared this island. I had no idea a_ single _dragon was responsible, especially not the Queen of a nest. "If that's true, then how do you remember what happened?"_

 _He sighed. "When she's in your head, it's like you can only think about pleasing her, and nothing else, but you can still kind-of think on your own. This is the first time in my life that I've been free, and I owe it all to the Shadow-Blenders who took that Prebirth Monster down!"_

 _My eyes widened at the profanity. "She was that awful?"_

" _Yes! If you could have seen her, you'd understand. She was really big and ugly and fat and she ate people when we couldn't bring her enough food."_

 _My eyes widened even further. "She WHAT?!"_

 _He spat on the ground. "She deserved what she got. And it wasn't easy to take her down, either." As he finished the rant, his anger left him, and he lowered his head. "It came with a cost."_

 _It took me less than a second to see what he meant. "Oh… I'm so sorry."_

 _He shook his head. "_ You _don't have anything to be sorry for. You were just defending yourself._ She's _the monster. We lost a lot of nest mates when we took her down, and we almost lost the ones who saved us. The Dragoness of the Moon herself embraced the two Shadow-Blenders for so long that we thought they wouldn't ever get up again. And when they_ did _wake up… one of them was missing a hind-paw, not moving… and the other had to sacrifice one of his tail fins to save him. If it weren't for those two, we would still be trapped, so we asked them if they would be our Kings. Now, they rule over our nest with more compassion and integrity than the Queen ever did. We also gave them names, even though we didn't ask them fir-"_

" _NAMES?!" I interrupted, my eyes now as wide as saucers. "Only_ legendary _dragons earn that honor!"_

" _Exactly!" He happily chirped. "After they freed themselves, then freed us, then discovered soul-fire and taught us how to use it, their tale probably would have been remembered even if they_ hadn't _taken her down. Once they led the charge against the Queen and let us_ all _bring her down for good, we_ knew _they had earned the honor. And even while they were being controlled by the Queen, they would always try to protect us during the raids. That's why we settled on the name that we did. They already had names for each other before we did; they say it feels weird having multiple names._ We _call them our Saviors." His voice was filled with reverence as he delivered their names, the part of the story that will be remembered throughout the ages, even if all else is forgotten._

" _That's… just…" I said, failing to find a good way to respond. No, that's not accurate. I couldn't find_ any _way to respond. New named dragons, in_ my _lifetime… not just that, they have MULTIPLE NAMES?! What am I_ supposed _to say? Or even_ think _?_

 _Then I remembered some of the best advice I'd ever heard: 'Thinking is like hunting. If you want to do it right, you have to take it slow.'_

 _I turned to the Little-Biter. "Would you mind if I took a moment to think about this?"_

 _He tilted his head, that Little-Biter curiosity nipping at him, but thankfully he agreed without a fuss._

 _I sat in silence for a long time, trying to wrap my head around it all. Minutes drifted by, and my scattered thoughts slowly tackled this new world, one fact at a time._

 _Fact One: After I was frozen, my species went extinct. I hate to think about it, but after a month of mourning, I decided that I wouldn't get anywhere by just moping around. It's a fact I have to accept if I want to do something about it._

 _Fact Two: I was frozen for a very long time – so long that I probably won't meet anybody that I knew before the ice took me. Again, not fun to think about, but I have to move on. As my mother said: mourn your losses for season, celebrate their memory for a lifetime._

 _Fact Three: A tyrant Queen had been ruling over the land of my kin for_ almost _as long as I've been frozen. She brainwashed her nest, according to the Little-Biter, and she's been ordering raids on humans all the while._

 _Fact Four: Two Shadow-Blenders took her down. They're now co-kings of the biggest nest in the area, and they have names._

 _There was a lot more that I wanted to piece together, but when the Little-Biter started fidgeting, I knew I'd have to worry about the details later – all except one._

" _What's soul-fire?" I asked in an attempt to distract myself from the fact that now_ three _dragons have earned names in my lifetime._

 _The Little-Biter smiled, his back spines slightly glowing. Must be my imagination. "You remember Sphere?" he asked with a little_ too _much enthusiasm._

" _Of course I do!" I shouted. I never saw him myself, but the rage with which my kin spoke of him is hard to forget._

 _His smile widened at my response, and his scales lit up even more. After taking a deep breath, he spewed out a stream of fire and… grabbed it. The fire was yellow-green and round and looked like a small sun above the ground. It was so beautiful… the moment I saw it, I couldn't look away; I wanted it to last forever. I don't know how long it lasted, but the flames had taken hold of me, and it was like I was in another world altogether. After what felt like hours, it abruptly vanished, and when it did, the invisible claws that had gripped my senses let go._

 _I only remembered what was going on when the Little-Biter dropped to the ground, panting._ "That's _soul-fire."_

I think I'll stop there; the soul-fire is making it difficult to remember more. Anyway, that's the only conversation I've had with _anybody_ since I escaped the ice. At this point, I don't care if it'll be with a human. I'll take it. The old warnings are probably outdated by now anyway, so I decided to answer his question truthfully. "Yes, I can understand you."

His smile grew larger at my reply and he turned away, looking over to where my human was sitting. "See?" he asked, gesturing at me.

"See what?" my human asked, not impressed. "All he did was grunt at you."

The human's eyes widened in a realization of sorts, then he chuckled and shrugged. "Well it's a start, right?" At my human's bored sigh, he brought a forepaw to his chin and began pacing.

It was only when he started moving back and forth right in front of me that I noticed his uneven walking. I tilted my head when I saw the metal where his lower left paw should have been. Missing limbs aren't uncommon among humans, but this is the first time I've ever seen a metal replacement. Hold on… a human who's missing a single hind paw…

 _Why do get the feeling I should know something about that?_

No, it's not just a feeling, I _know_ I know something about that, but before I could begin searching for what it was, the human stopped pacing.

"I have an idea!" he said, probably to catch my human's attention. Taking a step closer so that he was just in front of me, the human began again. "If you want to answer 'yes' to something, nod your head up and down, like this." He bobbed his head up and down, that strange smile on his face again.

Catching on, I mimicked the motion, now smiling myself.

"And if you want to answer 'no' to something, shake your head side to side, like this." When I went through that motion as well, he turned back to my human, looking proud of himself. "Well?"

My human still wasn't impressed. "Maybe he was just mimicking you. That's not the same as understanding what you were saying."

"Well then, Mr. Skeptic, why don't _you_ ask him something?" he asked in a challenging voice. "You know, to see if it worked."

"… So you're saying you want _me_ to prove you wrong?"

The human shrugged. "If that's how you want to put it, sure. I just want you to do it yourself."

Rolling his eyes, my human stood up and walked over. "Fine."

At that instant, I froze. I only _just then_ saw what was about to happen. My human was about to talk to me. Not just any human, _my_ human. It's been _months_ since I've been able to talk to a nest-mate. Actually, I guess it's been a lot longer than that. Now, I might _actually_ be able to talk to the only true friend I've made in this new world – the only person that, even without words, has come close to understanding me. I could feel my scales trembling as we met each other's gaze.

I braced myself as he opened his mouth, but he gasped and closed it before saying anything. His reddening cheeks and sped up breathing told me why before he did. "No, I am _not_ doing this. It's just stupid."

I don't know if that made me feel relieved or disappointed, but I sighed as the unexpected tension left my body as easily as it had come.

"What, are you afraid of your own dragon?" the other human teased.

"Dagur the Doombringer is afraid of nothing!" my human shouted, letting the other one get to him. "I'm just not going to embarrass myself with one of your stupid ideas!"

I cocked my head to the side, not certain if he was talking about himself or not. Sure, I've heard a lot of humans call my human a 'dagger' before, but I always thought it was just their way of getting back at him for all the times he had me mess with them.

Years ago, I remember calling the annoying half of my favorite Two-Head the "Second Opinion" of the pair (but only when she got _more_ annoying than usual). _She's_ the one who gave me the advice to slow down before thinking; what made Second Opinion so annoying was just how often she was _right_ about everything. That's why I can understand name-calling for the sake of fun, even if it's _slightly_ 'culturally incorrect', as she put it. It's weird how I haven't heard that phrase ever since I got out of that ice. Dragons used to throw it around left and right, especially the killjoys, in almost every conversation. I guess that means humor won out in the end.

Regardless, I probably wouldn't have known what 'dagger' meant if the humans I spied on all those seasons ago weren't such fans of the little metal things. This was the first time I've heard _him_ use the joke, even if he didn't say it multiple times while screaming and running away like the other humans do.

"Dagur… the Doombringer?" the human asked, clearly trying to hold back laughter.

My human shrugged. "It's a work in progress."

I still don't get why it's so funny to call him a weapon. _I'd_ take it as a compliment.

The other human brought his forepaw to his chin again. "Hmmmmm. So you aren't afraid of _anything_ , then?"

My human shook his head. "There's only _one_ thing I'm afraid of, and no one knows where it is or what happened to it, so as far as _you're_ concerned, no, there isn't." It didn't look like he planned to say any more than that.

The human took a second to realize mine had finished, raising an eyebrow when he did, but didn't press my human on his fears any further. "Well then, 'Doombringer', how about we make a deal?"

My human raised his eyebrow. "A… deal?"

"Yeah, a deal. I'll ask the first question, then you ask the next. That way I'll look just as stupid as you do if I'm wrong! _And,_ I'd look stupid first." That weird smile was on his face again.

Without warning, my human released a series of noises I've come to realize are his way of laughing. He wiped a nonexistent tear from his eye. "You can be so funny sometimes, Hiccup!"

That made me freeze. Again. _Hiccup?_ I could have sworn I heard something about a hiccup very recently. Or was it a cough? No… there's something bigger, something I'm not seeing, something that was distracting me when I heard about it…

"Alright, you're on!" my human shouted, once again forcing me to think about it later.

The other human smiled, stepped back, and turned so that the two of them were standing side-by-side.

After he thought everything was in place, my human motioned for the other to start.

The human turned to me, still smiling. "Alright, I'll start us off easy. Can you understand me?"

Ugh. This again? "Yes, I can understand you." I nodded as I spoke, my head going up and down just like he showed me.

My human scoffed. "That doesn't prove anything. My turn! Let's see…"

The other human rolled his eyes while mine took a moment to think of a question.

When he did, I was reminded once again of all the conversation that 'his men' have had about his mental health.

"Are you a dragon?"

The other human spoke before I decided if I should answer. "Why are you asking _that_?"

My human scoffed. "To see if he can understand us. Obviously. If he shook his head, then we'd know right off the bat that he can't. First we have to ask questions that we already know the answers to, otherwise it wouldn't prove anything."

The other human smiled. "That actually makes sense." He turned to me. "Well?"

Mentally agreeing with him, I answered the question. "Yes, I'm a dragon." I said, nodding my head.

My human's eyes widened a little when I answered, but his skepticism spoke up again. "We can't be sure if he understood us, or if he was just nodding his head like the last time. Ask him an obvious 'no' question."

The other human shrugged. "Alright." He turned to me. "Am _I_ a dragon?"

The answer to _that_ was obvious enough. "No, you aren't a dragon," I said, shaking my head.

My human still wasn't convinced. "Maybe he was just guessing."

The other human sighed. "Look, Dagur, if you really want to bring this home, why don't you ask him something that you've always wanted to ask him? Ask him something that _really_ matters to you, something that you can't _not_ know, and look him in the eyes when you do. That's really important. _You_ have to decide if you can see understanding in them or not, or you'll never really know."

My human thought about the suggestion for a while, nodded, then started thinking again, now more serious than I think I've ever seen him.

I have to admit, it _is_ a _really_ good suggestion. All I have to do is play my part, and we'll be that much closer for the rest of our lives.

My human's face lit up when he figured out what he would ask. He turned to face me, his eyes locking with mine before he spoke. "What's your name?"

Before I could even think of a way to respond to _that_ blasphemous question, the other human cut in. "Uh, Dagur, yes or no questions only, remember?"

My human's cheeks got _very_ red when he saw his mistake. He gets _really_ uptight about stupid mistakes, and he hates it most of all when _he_ makes them. "Oh, right," he admitted, looking down for a second before he started thinking again. This time, it didn't take so long. "Well then… I'll try this!" Our gazes met once again. " _Do_ you have a name?"

Oh _come_ on! Couldn't he have asked about _anything_ else? Why is _this_ so important to him? "No!" I tried to get the message across with more than just head motions this time. The other human _chuckled_ when I began shaking my head side to side as hard as I could while stomping a paw on the water-nest and flapping my wings.

My human just stood there, mouth open and eyes wide, as if he'd been struck by lightning.

The other human must have thought the 'deal' was still on, because he asked his next question in a soft voice before mine had come back to his senses. "Would you like one?"

I was starting to shake my head again when it hit me. _Hard._ All the important details about this strange human aligned, and the rest of the conversation I had with the flightless Little-Biter pushed itself to the front of my mind.

"That's _soul-fire," he huffed out in between breaths, recovering very slowly. "We surrounded the Queen with it and she fell into the ocean. The Saviors told us that a sea dragon took care of her after that."_

 _It took me a few more seconds to recover from the display of… 'soul-fire', but after I did, my mind was set. "These… Saviors taught you how to do_ that _?"_

 _He panted out a "yes", still trying to catch his breath._

 _I smiled as I remembered the Storm-Chaser motto, hammered into me by every one of my teachers: 'Learn all types of magic. You never know when you might need it.' My smile widened even more when I remembered Second Opinion's take on it: 'Be prepared.'_

 _Truer words have never been spoken. I never could have survived in the ice if I hadn't learned the obscure bit of body magic that let me regulate my own internal temperature. Up until now, I thought my training was complete. I steeled myself as I asked a question I never thought I'd have to ask again. "Have they chosen their apprentices yet?"_

 _The worst part is, either they have, or they haven't, and there's nothing I can do about it._

" _I don't… what?" the Little-Biter asked after a few more pants._

 _Oh. Right. Too informal. I should probably ask them directly. "Where are they right now? Can I meet them?"_

 _The Little-Biter instantly stopped panting and eyed me with caution. After a few seconds of silence, he shook his head. "I'm sorry, but they said that's the one thing we couldn't tell_ anyone _while spreading the word. The Saviors said that their location has to be a secret for now. They don't want a lot of dragons flocking to the nest."_

" _Why not?" I asked, confused by his sudden reluctance. "Why wouldn't they want a larger nest? Any King would be thrilled at a new addition to their flock! Besides, I just want to meet them."_

" _Even so, orders are orders, and…" the Little-Biter avoided my gaze as he explained._ _"I_ _t would probably cause even_ more _problems for the humans they're living with."_

 _I felt my jaw drop. "T_ _hey're living with_ humans _?!"_ _That's the_ last _thing I was expecting._

 _Named dragons, living with humans… legends in heart and deed, nesting with those that they had just finished warring against. It sure is_ one _way to try to promote peace, but to go to such extremes… I couldn't decide if it was a sign of madness, or genius._ _Either way, I could hardly believe the absurdity of it all. Or the irony._

 _Hopefully, I can at least learn more about_ why _they'd choose to do something so crazy, even if I can't learn_ where _. "Why would they choose to live with humans?"_

" _Actually," he said, smiling nervously. "One of them_ is _a human."_

 _Okay, that was just too much. By the time I had finished laughing, the Little-Biter was giving me a very annoyed look, which I ignored. "You really had me going there! For a second I thought you were serious."_

" _I_ am _serious!" he chirped._

 _I decided to humor him. "Alright then, how do you explain the_ two _Shadow-Blenders? You're not going to tell me there were_ three _Saviors, are you?"_

" _Of course not!" the little guy exclaimed, now even more annoyed. "The Shadow-Blender who lost his hind-paw wasn't always a Shadow-Blender. And he isn't one anymore, either. The other Savior and the humans call him 'Hiccup'."_

…

 _Oh._

…

 _Ooohh._

…

 _Before I could even_ begin _to think of something to say to_ that _, a rustling in the bushes caught our attention. I hadn't realized we were shouting until then, and I had_ completely _forgotten to keep a lookout for humans. Lucky for me, this was just the thing I needed to take my mind off of_ that _loaded story._

 _Giving the air a quick sniff and catching a very familiar scent, I turned back to the Little-Biter, trying to stay calm so I wouldn't make him panic. "Look, I think my human is nearby. You have to go, or he might make me attack you."_

 _Without another word, he scurried off, going deeper into the woods, probably in the same direction that the red-purple Flame-Skin had gone after dropping him off. Just as he vanished into the brush, my human came out in the open._

"So?" My human's voice cut through the memory, and I was once again looking at two humans and standing on a floating human nest.

It was only when the other human – no, one of the Saviors – cleared his throat, that I realized I must have been staring at him for a long time.

"Well, do you want one or not?" my human asked, awaiting my response with barely-contained excitement.

The original question completely forgotten, I did what I should have done from the start. Spreading my wings and arching my back, I lowered my head in the deepest bow I've ever given. I couldn't believe it. I was in the presence of dragon _legend_! It all makes sense now! The confidence, the missing paw, the casual conversation, that knowing smile… and all this time, he's been helping to close the gap between me and my human. _He's_ been helping _me!_ I am not worthy of such an honor.

"Umm, what's he doing?" I heard my human ask.

I felt my wings trembling as I looked back up at the Savior.

He was waving one of his paws, using it to silently tell me to get up, and from the desperate look on his face, it seemed like this wasn't what _he_ was expecting, either.

I looked over at my human in confusion before another bout of realization had a go with me. _He doesn't know!_ I thought, slowly getting up and looking at my human with apprehension. _None of them do!_

The Savior's voice cut through the dense air. I could now detect a _very_ strong fear scent from him. "Maybe names are a bigger deal for dragons than you might think?" he asked my human.

I felt my eyes widen as I had a final moment of understanding. _And he doesn't want them to know!_

Trying to salvage what little I could from this, I began nodding fiercely at his last remark. It's true, after all, and a good answer. I thought back to the rest of his questions. _Of course it is._

Luckily, my human had been too busy looking at me to notice the Savior's predicament. "So, _do_ you want a name?" he asked with just as much excitement as the first time.

And _that_ was the moment my chin hit the ground. It was too much. I'm in the presence of an actual legend, whose story will be told and retold for generations, and my human wants to name _me_?! I collapsed on the floor, covering my face with my wings and asking all the Gods if I could have a few moments to just _think_.

"What's he doing _now_?!"

"Maybe it's a _much_ bigger deal than you might think?" the Savior asked him.

I nodded.

"You need some time to think about it?" he asked.

Nod.

He sighed. "It's probably best if we dropped this for now, to let it all sink in. But you _both_ need to work this out later."

At my final nod, I heard a strange coming from ocean. I think the humans call it a 'horn'.

"Actually," the Savior amended, his voice rising in surprise, "I think I know _just_ the thing that'll help."


	14. Chapter 14: Let's Go A-Skrilling

_**Standard Disclaimer**_ **: This fic is based on the world created by IHHS. It is not the official sequel; you can find Echoed Songs, the** _ **actual**_ **sequel, on Rift-Raft's account. Links are provided on my profile page.**

* * *

 _"A half-baked idea is good so long as it's in the oven, right?"_

* * *

I didn't know how much of a Loki-blessed _genius_ Hiccup could be sometimes. First he makes the discovery of the century about dragon language, then he figures out what's bothering my Skrill so much, and _then_ , to top it all off, he suggests we get our minds off of things by _pranking_ the Meatheads?! And with the double-whammy of my Skrill and his being alive, to boot! Well, that last part was my idea, but my point still stands. He's like the brother I never knew I had!

Now, here I am, almost bursting in anticipation, holding the ropes of my Skrill's harness and waiting for the large ship of the Meatheads to get close enough for a good jump. They _are_ the hosts, so the warship wasn't surprising; in fact, I was counting on it. The larger the ship, the more careful the docking, and the easier it'll be for me to time this just right.

The distracting roars and chirps from above finally ended a few minutes ago thanks to Hiccup's whispering. My Skrill was _really_ making a big deal about him riding on his back when I literally threw him up there, but I knew Hiccup would find a way to deal with it. Besides, it's perfectly safe so long as he jumps off before the lightning starts. Or it should be. I never actually tried it myself…

 _Note to self: Try it at soonest possible convenience._

Anyway, since this prank was Hiccup's idea in the first place, I was _not_ going to let him miss out on all the fun!

We were hiding behind the sails of my ship so the Meatheads wouldn't see us, but I started to reposition us once _they_ started steering their warship to the other end of the bay. While they made their _slow_ way to the harbor, I moved us around the deck, paying careful attention to their line of sight.

As I did, Hiccup decided to reminisce about the laughs we once shared.

"By the way, I've been meaning to ask you what the deal was with all those daggers you threw at me when I was little."

My Skrill made some kind of choking noise.

"You know the saying. What doesn't kill you makes you harder to kill!"

"Uh, I'm not exactly sure that's right."

I shrugged, and inched us a few paces to the right. "Well, you get the idea. I was just trying to toughen you up, give you the skills you need to survive in a body like that. And it worked! I mean, you even survived a Night Fury!" I inched us further to the right. "It was nothing personal."

"Yeah, I'm having a hard time believing that with how happy it made you."

"Hiccup, throwing weapons _always_ makes me happy." I gestured at my Skrill to hover higher. "I just made you stronger by doing it, so it was a win-win."

"And what about the time you almost drowned me?"

"Same thing."

"And buried me?"

"You know, you really got to learn to let things go. We were just kids." At this point, they were almost in position, so I stepped up to the wooden railing.

"I don't think most kids spend their time like you did."

It was time. " _Shushusshhhussshhhh_! They're almost in range!" Ready to jump, I took a few steps back.

I nearly tripped over my own two feet when Hiccup called out before I could start my run.

" _Actually_ , I was just thinking, it might be better if you wait for them to dock so they'd have somewhere to run. Or at least wait for them to get close enough to the shore to jump overboard and swim."

Okay, now _that_ is _exactly_ why I need to spend more time around this guy. "Hiccup, you're a _genius_! I'll go with the second option. That way, we still won't _technically_ be doing anything illegal. Plus, it'd be boring if they could just _run_ away; swimming sounds _much_ funnier!"

"Whatever you say, o pranking master."

I rolled my eyes and took a few steps back. "I guess that means we have a _little_ more time to talk."

"… So, you're really going to tell me you did all that to _help_ me?"

"Yup."

"Are you going to say _this_ is supposed to help me, too?"

"Sure will! And besides, just look at you! Not even _dragon magic_ could leave a dent in you!" I took a few steps to the right. "Well, not much of one anyway."

"Gee, thanks for reminding me."

"Anytime, Brother! Anytime!"

"… Brother?"

"Brother in pranking, of course!"

"I'm pretty sure 'brothers' don't force each other to do stupid things like this."

"Clearly you've never had a sibling." They were almost in range again, so I stepped up to the railing once again. "If I told you all the times my sister made me do something stupid, we'd be here till spring!"

"You have a sister?"

"They're about to dock! Hang on!"

In the ready position once again, I tugged on the harness to signal lift-off before pushing against the deck of my ship with all my might. The familiar feeling of being pulled through the sky seeped into my bones as I steered us to the ship. I took a moment while we were in the air to close my eyes and inhale the breeze through my nostrils. No matter what, the urge to embrace the freedom of flight with closed eyes and a ready body always hits me after takeoff, and I stopped fighting it a while ago.

After filling my lungs for three full seconds, and holding my breath for a second more, I opened my eyes and locked on to our target, then I opened my mouth and did what I was born to do: I screamed at the top of my lungs. Every good warrior has a battle cry; every _great_ warrior has a battle _scream_.

This is going to be _legendary._

* * *

 **Is there such a thing as having** ** _too_** **much fun with your fic?**

 **Oh, and at some point before you get to Chapter 16 (or before** ** _I_** **get there, upload-wise), I'd recommend re-reading** ** _I Hear Him Scream,_** **Chapters 12 and 13 (Hiccup POV). There are some pretty important details, big and small, that I touch on. I** _ **really**_ **get into them in chapters 17 and 18, so I'd** _ **really**_ **recommend the re-read before** _ **then**_ **.**

 **Thanks for reading, and have an interesting day!**

 **-Rambling Drabble**


	15. Chapter 15: Mogadon the Meathead

**IHHS non habeo. IHHS est intelectualis proprietas Rift-Raftis.**

 _ **Standard Disclaimer**_ **: This fic is based on the world created by IHHS. It is not the official sequel; you can find Echoed Songs, the** _ **actual**_ **sequel, on Rift-Raft's account. Links are provided on my profile page.**

* * *

 _"Let sleeping dogs lie."_

* * *

The biggest downside to pranking is that it's a type of fun that always comes at the expense of someone else. Since the twins will always be around to remind me how it feels to be on the other side of a prank, and since I doubt I'll be pranking again anytime soon, _and_ since this is the first time I've been on _this_ side, I figured I should enjoy the moment while I can.

That said, the wide-eyed, pale-white, Gods-fearing expressions of the Meatheads might just be _the_ funniest thing I've seen all year. It was actually pretty hard to get myself under control until I remembered to make sure they were swimming to the island. Dagur and his dragon, on the other hand, were still on their backs, tears running down both their cheeks as they leaned on each other with no intention of stopping anytime soon. Taking a few deep breaths, I stepped over to the edge of the ship and skimmed the harbor. I could easily make out the four heads bobbing up and down in a mad swim to the island, somehow managing to scream whenever they gasped for breath.

 _Wait, four?_

Just as I started trying to put names to the faces of the Vikings that had jumped ship, the entire vessel shook and the loud _crack_ of a harshly opened trapdoor thundered out from behind me.

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF _THOR_ IS GOING ON UP HERE?! Did Mjolnir _itself_ strike our deck?!"

A man with an eye patch and a peg leg burst onto the deck, face as red as lava and voice almost louder than my dad's. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the black dragon (who was still laughing just as hard as before) on his ship.

With his arrival, there was a new fear scent in the air, though this one wasn't nearly as strong as those still lingering from the other Meatheads.

Not seeing any reason _not_ to, I went ahead and answered him. "Kind of," I shrugged.

Dagur must have liked that response, because he lost what little footing he'd finally found in his last few attempts to stand up and he started wheezing in between laughs.

The Meathead chief just stood there, mouth gaping, looking back and forth among the three of us and not at all trying to keep up the "chiefly" look as he did. After a few seconds, his mouth slowly closed and he began shaking his head. All signs of nervousness left him as he put his hands on his hips and let out a heavy sigh.

"Damn," he said, still shaking his head. "I thought I _dodged_ Thuggory's bludgeon this mornin'."

This didn't help the two Berserkers calm down in the slightest. Nor did the look on his face when I said "You probably did." He stood there for the longest time with the most confused look I've ever seen on anyone. And I've seen a _lot_ of confused people.

After a few more seconds of looking back and forth between me and the still-hysterical pair of Berserkers, he threw his hands in the air. "Alright, I give up. What's goin' on here?"

I responded as casually as I could. "A prank."

Dagur had recovered just enough to add his own two-coppers. "And the _best_ damn one I've ever pulled, at that!"

The chief raised an eyebrow at the answer. "So that's what an extinct dragon, a madman, and a dead Viking are doin' on my ship? Pranking?"

The neutral expression I'd put on just to mess with him quickly grew into a smile. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

He let out another exhausted sigh before he continued. "Well if _that's_ all, would you mind tellin' me where my men are?"

I shrugged again. "Still swimming to shore. You can see for yourself if you want." I pointed out to the beach of the island to show him where to look.

Dagur finally pulled himself together as Mogadon stepped over to the railing, steadying himself on his still-recovering dragon. "You don't have to do that! Just listen! You can still-" he nearly burst into another fit of laughter "-hear them screaming!" Aaaand more laughter. At least he didn't take as long to recover this time. "I don't think I've ever heard Vikings with voices higher than those! And that's _including_ my sister!"

The Meathead chief seemed to think for a while, raising a hand to stroke his beard as he looked at his men. He turned to us after reaching some conclusion. "Are you boys familiar with the laws surroundin' gathers?"

"Yes." We both glanced at each other after the simultaneous response.

I decided to explain once Dagur started laughing again. "That's why we waited till just the right moment." A big lurch from the back of the ship caused everyone to jump, and a glance at the anchor rope gave me a good idea. "As you can see," I said, pointing at it, "you weren't technically 'at the island' before our 'attack'. Oh, and we didn't hurt anybody. Or the ship, for that matter."

Mogadon's eyebrows rose higher and higher as I explained, before falling once I finished. He thought for a long time, looking at the anchor rope and then the island, until eventually he chuckled and shook his head. "I hope you both realize I'll be havin' a _long_ talk with your fathers about this."

Dagur just shrugged while I brought my hand behind my neck. "Yeah, I think you would've been doing that anyway. At least now you'll have something less, uh, serious to talk about."

The chief chuckled again and looked at the island. "I can't believe I'm sayin' this, but I got a feelin' you're right. Looks like the Meatheads weren't the only ones to go through some strange things this fall." His features lost their amusement as he put on a 'down to business' look that I've seen plenty of times on my own dad. "Now! Since you boys decided to time your 'prank' _so_ well, I think it's only fair you help me tie up the ship before we _all_ head ashore."

I looked at Dagur, who just shrugged again as he turned to his Skrill – no, his _dragon_ ; I can't get into that habit.

Dagur looked like he was about to gesture something before he slapped his own forehead with an open palm. "Oh, that's _right_! Uh, you should head back to the ship now."

Luckily, Mogadon didn't notice anything weird about his dragon understanding him.

When his dragon tilted his head, Dagur explained. "There's a rule banning non-host Vikings from bringing weapons onto the island."

One shrug, nod, and take-off later, and I was once again in a party of three, though this time I wasn't very happy about it.

My hands almost slipped from the rope I was tying when Dagur called his dragon a weapon. After all this, I hadn't been expecting him to say something so demeaning, so insulting, so… human. Hopefully I could hide how much that'd just killed my mood. "So he's a weapon now, is he?" I asked as I got to work again. I think managed to mask my anger in a grunt by pulling hard on my rope.

Dagur turned to me with (thank the Gods) indignation. "No! Well, not exactly, but I'm sure that's what the other tribes would say. Berserker history and all that. The _last_ thing I'd want to do is give them a legal standing on top of everything else."

I had sighed in relief before he even finished.

Mogadon chuckled as he tied down many ropes in one strong _yank_. "We would, I'll give you that. I was hopin' you'd forget."

Dagur scoffed as he did the same. "Please! I always make sure my village stays out of it when I have fun. Unless it's at their expense, of course."

Mogadon grunted as he finished the knot, then moved on to the next set of ropes. "I take it that beast is part of your crew, then?"

"Duh."

"And what part of my letter made you think I'd allow such a thing?"

Dagur smiled and pulled out a piece of parchment.

The ropes almost slipped from my hands _again_ when I realized it was the letter in question, but a quick moment of thought stifled my surprise. In hindsight, it was obvious; he must have been expecting this.

Dagur started reading from it in a voice that was obviously meant to mimic Mogadon's. "You said, and I quote: 'Since this will only be a half-gather, I request that the head count on each ship be no greater than five', end quote. The head count on our ship is no greater than five. LiKe Alvin used to say: 'I obey the letter of the law, if not the spirit!'"

Mogadon sighed. "Is this how it's _always_ goin' to be with you two?"

"Pretty much." We both looked at each other after the _second_ synchronized answer.

Mogadon chuckled. "And I don't suppose either of you would care to explain a few things about yourselves while we have the time?"

Exchanging another glance, we seemed to settle on the same answer without saying a word. Maybe _this_ is what it's like for the twins.

Dagur gestured at me, so I finished tying the last of my own ropes and shook my head. "I think this time we _will_ wait until the other tribes get here before going over everything. We, uh, just kind of finished doing that an hour ago, and it'd probably be easier, for everyone, if we did."

"Not even the short version, huh?" the Chief of the Meatheads asked. He sighed when I shook my head.

Funny how we _will_ be giving him the 'short version', just not yet.

Mogadon tied the final set of ropes and threw out the gangplank, immediately marching down to the dock so he could secure the ship completely. He motioned for us to walk ahead of him when we were all off the ship. I saw his grin a second too late – the second I passed him.

"Well if _that's_ how it is," he started in a light, jovial, and daring tone that somehow sounded natural on him, "why don't you tell me more about this 'prank' of yours?"


	16. Chapter 16: Forbidden Friendship

**_TF2 Disclaimer Mini-Series, Short 5 out of 5: Maggots!_**

 **Soldier** **: "If writing is sure to result in victory, then you must write! Rift-Raft said that, and I'd say he knows a _little more_ about writing than _you do,_ pal, because he _invented_ it! And then he perfected it so that no living man could best him in the ring of honor.**

 **"Then, he used his write money to buy two of every tree on earth, and then he made them into a boat, and then he wrote the crap out of every single one.**

 **"And from that day forward, any time a bunch of wood is together in one place, it's called a raft!**

 **"Unless it's a barn!"**

 _ **Standard Disclaimer**_ **: This fic is based on the world created by IHHS. It is not the official sequel; you can find Echoed Songs, the** _ **actual**_ **sequel, on Rift-Raft's account. Links are provided on my profile page.**

* * *

 **By the way, I don't know if Rift-Raft is a "he" or not. Since I have (disclaimer:) used Valve's 'Meet the Soldier', I figured I should leave "he" in there, even if it might not be true (again, I don't know). Either way, the Soldier isn't exactly the brightest bullet in the barrel.**

* * *

 _"I knew it was wrong, I just didn't know why."_

* * *

"And that was _before_ or _after_ he tried the bucket of water?" Mogadon asked, still trembling as he recovered from the first half of the story.

Dagur answered him this time around, giving me a much-needed break. "Just after! The look on his face when he figured out my Skrill can't be extinguished: Pure. Gold."

"I can only imagine!" the Meathead chief shouted, sharing Dagur's wide grin but still managing to keep most of his composure. "That boy can't handle surprises!"

Since they were both on the verge, I decided to give them one last push. "I just wish I wasn't standing downwind at the time."

 _Still_ trembling, they both turned to me, each asking some variant of "Why?".

I raised an eyebrow at the Meathead chief. "Are you _sure_ your son is housebroken?"

They were only confused for a second, then their eyes widened, and then we had to stop walking as they both fell to the ground in the loudest round of laughter yet. I was tempted to cover my ears while I waited for them to stand back up; Mogadon's laughter is _almost_ as loud as his shouting when he really gets into it. Maybe I pushed him a little _too_ far.

Still, it's a good thing he's taking this so well. If he hadn't, Dad would probably be even _less_ happy about what I've gotten up to in a single hour. I've already got a pretty good idea of what he'll say to me, since I've seen him reprimand the twins plenty of times; it never goes very well unless they can convince someone to vouch for them, and since it only ever worked if Dad trusted their witness, I should probably be safe this time around.

And speaking of Dad, I hadn't realized we were already at our destination until he stepped out of it, looking very exhausted and wearing the 'fed-up' look he only ever has when he's _really_ annoyed about something. I guess that's another downside to pranking – it always comes back to him somehow. I'll _definitely_ be avoiding it for a while; I think I've put us both through enough already.

Mogadon's face lit up even more when he saw him, and he scrambled to his feet, dusting off his clothes before speaking. "Stoick the Vast! _Just_ the Viking I was hopin' to see! I take it my boy told you all about it?"

Dad didn't answer right away; he just silently stared at us for a few very long seconds before giving a heavy sigh and shaking his head. "Why don't you come inside? Maybe now I'll be able to make some sense out of this." He retreated into the hall before any of us could respond.

I was _about_ to follow him, at least until Dagur grabbed my arm and pulled me aside to make way for Mogadon, who looked like he got tunnel vision once he met Dad again for the first time in years. He didn't even cast a glance at all the stumbling I'd just been put through thanks to Dagur's ever so subtle actions.

Just as the Meathead Chief was about to cross the threshold, he must have finally noticed his escorts were no longer in front of him. "And where do _you two_ think you're goin'?" he asked, probably debating whether he should force us to stay or not.

Dagur answered before I could. "Back to the docks. Stoick said we should be sending the other tribes his way earlier, and I think it'd only be fair if we showed the Burglars and Hysterics our hospitality, too." At this, he let loose a lot of laughter lasting _way_ longer than it should have.

After taking moment to consider the idea, Mogadon sighed and nodded. "Just remember the rules, keep things _peaceful_ , and be back by high noon. Oh, and ever since her loss, Bertha has been a lot less forgivin', so you might want to think twice before messin' with her."

"No promises!" Dagur shouted back before turning around and beginning the reverse journey.

Now ready to follow _him_ , I at least managed to take a few steps this time before I was redirected _again_. At least this time it was accidental and I didn't go through _as_ much stumbling when I almost ran into Savage, who had been coming from the direction of the forest and smelling like he'd just finished answering nature's call.

Thankfully Dagur took care of the talking; I was busy keeping the odor from my nostrils. "Savage? Why aren't you with my father?"

"I had to inspect the outhouses, sir," he said matter-of-factly, before noticed who exactly it was he was talking to. His eyes narrowed accusingly when he did. "Why aren't you on the ship?"

"You didn't hear the Meatheads?" Dagur asked innocently.

"No…" he replied cautiously. "Did I miss something?"

Dagur rolled his eyes, but I cut off anything he was about to say in the hopes that I could get Savage to leave sooner. "You might be able to get caught up if you hurry to the Hall."

Dagur shrugged and nodded when the Outcast raised an eyebrow.

"Alright then. Stay out of trouble, sir."

Dagur scoffed and let him pass.

Once he did, I started putting as much distance between myself and the retreating Outcast's smelly path as possible. As Dagur adjusted to the new pace, I decided to ask a few questions in order to distract me from my nose. "Okay, two things. Why is Savage with you and not the Outcasts, and what loss was Mogadon talking about?"

"You don't know?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Why would I?"

Now _his_ eyes narrowed. "I thought the Burglars went to you guys first last winter."

"Uh, I was kind-of out of the loop last year," I reminded him, not lying at all.

"Oh, that's right!" he exclaimed, swinging his fist through the air in front of him. "Actually, I should probably start with Savage, not Bertha. You could always ask your father about her anyway. And now that I think about it, not many people know about what happened to the Outcasts yet, so you're not behind there."

He took a few deep breaths, readying himself for the tale, then jumped right into it.

"Sometime during the summer, when things were just about at their worst, Savage washed up on our shores on a little raft. He was burned and bruised and starving, but that didn't stop him from giving us a full report for very long. After a meal and some quick first-aid, he told us about a _huge_ dragon raid that destroyed Outcast Island-"

I automatically tuned him out the moment he said that – the moment it all came back to me. My mind flashed back to the blurry haze of last year, becoming crystal clear for the first time in months as I remembered the worst raid I had ever been a part of… a raid that happened mid-last summer.

One evening, the Queen called me down to her pit and told me of a large, craggy island with many wild dragons (i.e. potential new slaves) and dangerous humans. These humans were closer to the nest than any others, and their leader was powerful and skilled – the only true threat within our borders. The Queen put me in charge of an all-out assault on these dangerous humans because of what I'd done in the other raids. She was confident that I would pull through for her, just like I'd been doing so eagerly for the past two seasons.

More than anything, I wish _that_ was the night I could have disappointed her.

Even as I was, even with a mind that wasn't really my own, even though I'd finally found a real family – something that I desperately wanted to protect – I knew something was wrong. The constant headaches were the first sign, but two seasons of migraines trained me into ignoring them. Still, even as I happily and eagerly served the Queen, I couldn't convince myself that what I was doing was right. And that was only at the time. There are only two things in my life that I would want to go back and stop from ever happening; this is one of them. It was our first and last 'kill' raid. No stealing, no hiding to keep safe, and no mercy. Our orders were to eliminate the threat, and we had to obey.

I _tried_ to get all of my nest mates out alive – that's why I had a plan for everyone to follow. First, I asked for five minutes to survey the island alone, then for another ten to free the caged dragons that I'd found. I figured we could use all the help we could get, and I assumed that captive (and potentially vengeful) dragons would be a good place to find some. The Stone-Eaters didn't disappoint, or at least not the ones that stayed around. I also knew I'd need a distraction to escape the compound (since it's easier to break _into_ jail than it is to break _out_ of it), so I'd told my nest mates to each find a different human and strike all at once, to give us the upper hand in the battle and to give me a chance to join it. Once I was out of the compound, I was shocked at what I saw.

Everything had fallen to chaos after that first strike – humans _and_ dragons were fighting without rhyme or reason. It was complete and utter mayhem, a battle driven entirely by fear on both sides. I don't think so many shots and arrows have missed their marks in any other battle in history. The Vikings were too panicked and overwhelmed to keep their hands steady, and we were too disoriented by all the noise to keep our heads steady. Those that fell did so at the hands or claws of their opponent. And many fell. It was a frenzy; every kill was overkill, and there was only one thing I could do in the madness.

That night, it became my mission to personally protect as many of my nest mates as I possibly could. Or personally avenge them, if I failed.

I lost count of the number of Vikings I killed in that raid. It would have been the least I could do to remember their faces, but thoughts like that couldn't cross my mind, and it wouldn't have mattered even if they could – there were just too many. When I try to remember them now, the fights all blend together; there were no individuals, there were no heroes, and there were no survivors. There was only one mindset, only one rule for the nest to follow that night: they were the enemy, and they had to die.

Actually, now that I think about it, that's not _entirely_ true. There were no exceptions or holes to the mindset, but there _was_ a human that stood out – one man that killed more of my nest mates than any other. If it weren't for a frantic Flame-Skin's report, I wouldn't have known about him until it was too late. He was singlehandedly fighting three of my nest-mates at once with a crossbow and an axe, according to the Flame-Skin, and he had them cornered by the time I got there; a little discipline and focus went a long way that night, and he plenty of both. Out of all the humans I saw, his was the only steady hand. Even at the time I could tell he was the King of the island… that must have been Alvin. Like the Queen said, he was the greatest threat in the area.

I didn't take any chances. I ordered two Hum-Wings to drop on him from above while he was distracted by the Flame-Skins, to simply stop flapping so he wouldn't hear them coming, and after that… the flock of Stone-Eaters joined in. Outraged about what he'd been doing to them and their kin for months, they happily pounced on the momentarily helpless Outcast. I can still see Alvin squirming and shouting as he was held down by our Hum-Wings, completely confident that he could escape. I can still hear him screaming as the razor-sharp, circular sets of teeth tore him apart seconds later.

There were very few painless deaths that night. If it weren't for me, there would have been even less. I can still see the broken bones, still see the burned beards, still make out the terror on the face of every human who saw me right before I went for their throat. I can still hear the battle cries, still hear the desperate banging meant to keep me away, still hear the helpless screaming right after. I can still smell the powerful scent of fear, still smell the acrid mix of blood and steel, still smell the gore of the slain dragons and mauled men all around me. The foul stench of war filled every inch of the island. It was so strong that I could taste it…

Gods… it was almost as bad as the Kill Ring. It probably _was_ just as bad for the Outcasts. This time… this time, I was the ringleader. _I_ was the monster, killing the landlocked humans at every turn and sending them to the afterlife without remorse. It was a bloodbath – a _slaughter_. The humans never stood a chance, but they _all_ went down fighting.

I _knew_ it was wrong, I just didn't know why.

No, that's not right. I _couldn't_ know why. The Queen wouldn't let me.

I guess, in that way, she was 'merciful'. She took away my memories to keep me under control, just like she did for Toothless, but if it weren't for that, much more my nest-mates wouldn't be around today. That raid would have happened anyway, and the result would have been the same no matter what. Without me, it just wouldn't have been so one-sided. Without my plan, there would have been twice as much resistance, many more deaths. Without my memories, I didn't hesitate to choose a dragon's life over a human's.

But that doesn't help me much now, does it?

I've got blood on my hands, and I can still see it, plain as day and dripping in silence. It makes me think about things that I shouldn't.

If I still had my memories, would I have done it? Would I still have protected my nest mates, even if I knew it meant becoming my-

…

If it meant becoming the villain?

…

Why? Why did it have to be this way? Why did I have to kill so many? Why did I have to be _so_ desperate to fit in? _Why_ do I have to have all these _Gods-forsaken_ memories of that whole GODS-FORSAKEN year?! Couldn't the Queen have taken _those_ instead of my scales?

 _NO!_

I almost jumped out of my skin at the fierce answer I wasn't expecting to get. I immediately forced myself out of my thoughts, looking to the mid-story Dagur to see if he'd noticed anything and then looking everywhere else when I saw that he hadn't. We were completely alone on the path, and before I could start wondering if I'd imagined it, the voice returned. I didn't _hear_ it so much as _think_ it. It was almost like the Queen's telepathy.

 _Have you learned nothing?!_

I froze when the reprimanding voice washed over me, angry and sad and full of disappointment. At this point I couldn't tell if it really was a voice, or if it was a memory. It sounded so familiar…

 _Do not forget the past. Do not even try. Would you truly risk forgetting everything?_

 _No, not everything!_ I immediately thought, ready to argue that I only wanted to forget that one day, or the other.

And then I remembered. I remembered _exactly_ where I'd heard this voice before, and I remembered what I was asked when I did. Whatever drive I had to argue or fight or beg for things to be different left me instantly.

 _I… I'm sorry. I wouldn't. Not now, not ever._

I'd forgotten.

For a moment, I had _actually_ forgotten everything They taught me. They were right- no, they _are_ right. I can't live in the past, but I can't forget about it either. I _can't_ forget about awful things because I'd rather not think about them. I was given the chance already, and I made my choice. These memories could be the key to making amends, to helping anyone who made it through that horrible year. They could be the key to finally creating peace.

 _And I would never,_ ever _forget Toothless._

Taking a few deep breaths to calm myself, I did what I should have been doing from the start; I began putting my memories to use.

In my zealotry, I told my nest mates to be thorough, to make sure that there wasn't a single human left standing anywhere on the island. I didn't think anyone had escaped... I ordered the ships to be burned half-way through, but I guess Dagur _did_ say Savage washed ashore on a raft. Either way, he lived to tell the tale; that's the important part of all of this. I need to accept that if I want to move on.

So I did.

Nodding once, I turned my attention to Dagur again.

"-and he's been our advisor ever since. I hate to admit it, but without his knowledge on keeping dragons at bay and his experience as second-in-command, our tribe's losses could have been a lot heavier. Well, everywhere but the mainland, that is."

"That's good," I sincerely noted. I guess someone _else_ was able to save some lives in that awful war. At least something good came out of the Kill Raid. _That's_ a thought I never thought I'd have, but… it helps. Nodding again, I moved on to my second question. "And Bertha?"

Dagur shrugged, waving it off like it wasn't important. "Oh, she just lost her husband and brother on the same night sometime last winter. I figured she'd be over it by now, but I guess not."

Luckily, this was a pretty good distraction, even if it _was_ terrible news. At least it didn't involve me this time. Plus, it raised a few questions. "But aren't the Bog Burglars an all-female tribe?" I asked, hoping to have one of them answered. Dad always drilled that detail into me whenever he talked about them.

"Yeah, _that_ sure worked out for them." At my raised eyebrow, he chuckled and put a hand on my shoulder. "Desperate times, my brother, desperate times. If the Burglars hadn't started inviting men to live on their mainland a few years back so they could keep up with the raids, I honestly doubt they would have made it. The extra numbers and muscle were just the edge they needed to survive."

"That makes sense," I said neutrally, shrugging off his hand; this time, I should focus on gathering information, so it'd be best if I kept my emotions out of it. "So Bertha had her brother and husband living with her last winter?"

"If she hadn't, she wouldn't have lost them," Dagur simply stated.

A cold breeze swept in from the ocean, but it died almost just as quickly.

Ignoring what I hoped _wasn't_ the sign of a cold front, I pressed Dagur for details. "Were they living together before they got married?"

Dagur nodded. "Yes, and before you ask, they weren't officially married until about a year ago. I think Bertha's husband was one of the first men to be invited to the island. From what I heard, he was a pretty upstanding Viking, which got the _rest_ of the tribe thinking. Two years after that, they got hitched and made Burglar history. Since that marriage was the first of her tribe, Bertha set a few precedents while she could, to make sure things wouldn't change _too_ much. She even signed into their laws that no man could be Chief of the Burglars just to be safe. Women still hold most of the political power and leadership, even _after_ marriage – almost like the reverse of how all the other tribes work – but at least they _have_ marriage now. Her tribe really dodged an arrow with it either way."

"So they're not the 'scourge of men' that they used to be?"

"Some of them are," he conceded, shrugging. "I heard there's still a sect on their mainland that teaches the ins and outs of 'effective one-night stands', but I think the rest the Burglars finally saw that marriage works a lot better for a healthy society." He leaned in conspiratorially. "I even heard a pretty reliable rumor that Bertha broke the tradition of _not_ getting close to men _way_ before she got married. Camicazi was pretty depressed when the Burglars came to us for aid right after you guys rejected them, so I'm guessing she was pretty close to him, just like her mother. I didn't believe the rumor until I saw her acting that way, but now it's hard to deny that he was her actual father."

I felt my eyes widen at that final bit of information. Camicazi is slightly older than I am, so her parents must have been close for almost two decades, at least. A whole _bunch_ of things just started making a lot more sense. Dad's caution with the Burglars, the strong resentment of Big-Boobied – formerly "Level-Headed" – Bertha, and the fact that I never encountered an all-female tribe during the raids all came crashing together, wrapped up in an ugly bow.

Better be safe on this one. "Dagur, I think it'd be best if we _don't_ show the Burglars the same, uh, 'hospitality' that we showed the Meatheads."

Dagur was taken aback. "And pull the _same_ prank if we did?! You don't know me as well as I thought you did, Brother! I hardly ever use the same trick twice; I only do that if I _know_ it'll work, like I did with Gobber earlier. If I did it more often than that, like twice in the same day, for example, people would know what to expect!"

Hmm. Maybe I should tell the twins that. It'd give Gorge some relief from the stuffed yak, at least. "So you _know_ it wouldn't work on the Burglars?"

He shrugged. "Well, not as well as it did with the Meatheads, anyway, so it's not worth it."

I only just realized we were in front of the Berserker's ship when Dagur began walking up the gangplank. These conversations really have a way of killing my situational awareness. I'm going to have to look into that later.

Dagur finished his explanation as he stepped on the deck. "Plus, Mogadon was right. It'd be harder to get away with, so it's _really_ not worth it. That's why I didn't say we'd be showing them the 'same' hospitality, just _our_ hospitality. I always leave the normal approach on the table, just in case." He glanced at his dragon as I put my first foot on the deck, then turned back to me when my metal leg followed. "By the way, I've been meaning to ask you something. Why weren't you surprised when I told you guys about my Skrill? Like I said, I _knew_ it would work to get a rise out of Gobber with how much I've done it with my men, but _you_ … well, you know what you did. Have anything to say about that?"

The piercing gaze was a little unnerving.

"Um… no?"

He shrugged. "Fine. I'll just have to figure it out for myself."

"Alright," I sighed, feeling like Mogadon must have felt after our prank. Sometimes, it really does feel pointless to argue with him. Luckily, I remembered how I knew the name 'Skrill' when I was on the back of one and my hair stood on end; I was hoping I would be able to keep this national secret, but priorities have a way of sacrificing some secrets to keep others. Still, I don't have to _tell_ him that it's a national secret. Now that I think about it, I don't even have to tell him abut the Book of Dragons. "Have you ever heard of Bork the Bold?"

Dagur's eyebrows scrunched in thought. "I… _think_ so. Wasn't he the Hooligan's first chief, or something like that?"

"Close. He was the advisor to the first Hooligan chief, but that's not why I brought him up. Bork the Bold was the first Viking to document the dragon species of the archipelagos. Centuries ago, he made pretty detailed drawings and descriptions of the dragons that were around at the time. You do the math."

"So… he wrote about Skrills?"

"Yup. He drew one, wrote about their strengths, weaknesses, things that happen when you get too close, that kind of thing – basically all the things that you'd need to know if you were as unlucky as he was. Before he was called 'Bork the Bold', he was called 'Bork the Very, Very Unfortunate'."

"So he only wrote about dragons because his luck was awful? He sounds like my kind of Viking."

I was about to say something he might have expected until I got an idea to mess with him. "You know, _Gobber_ is actually Bork's last living descendant." I pumped a little sarcasm into my voice. "Maybe _that's_ why you two hit it off so well."

Dagur scoffed and ignored my teasing. He might not have as much experience with the unexpected as I have, but it looks like he's got it down when it comes to conversation. "So that's why he's got two stumps, huh? I was wondering how that could have happened. Let me guess: a big accident, or a big dragon. Either way, luck wasn't on his side, right?"

"The second one, and yeah."

Dagur shuddered and began walking to the center of his deck. "I'd hate to fight whatever did _that_ to him."

"I thought 'Dagur the Doombringer' was afraid of nothing," I recalled as we approached the now-sunbathing dragon. Gods that's something I miss.

He scoffed again. "I'm _not_ , but that doesn't mean I'm stupid. I won't put my head in the mouth of a Monstrous Nightmare just because I'm not _afraid_ of it."

"Really? You strike me more as the Shadow-" _oh damn_ "I mean, the strike class type."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

I really need to keep my big mouth shut sometimes. "Oh, uh, Berk classifies dragons into categories. I meant to say you strike me more as someone who'd find the _most dangerous_ dragon mouth, like a Night Fury's, if you were going to do that."

"Hmph. I guess it might be interesting if it were safe, but like I said, I avoid it because it's an unnecessary risk. "

"Oh but I've seen you do _plenty_ of risky things in the past hour," I prodded, mostly just to keep the conversation about away from me.

"I take a lot of risks, sure," he admitted. He became much more serious when he began to explain, dropping the joking attitude as he gave a make-shift lecture. "But the key word there was 'unnecessary'. There _has_ to be a point to it, especially if I'm going to put my life on the line, which I _haven't_ done today." He walked over to the crate that he'd pulled a couple of dead rabbits from earlier. "For example, it was a life-threatening risk to un-ice my Skrill, but I wouldn't be who I am today if I hadn't taken it." He pried the lid off. "And there's nothing wrong with taking a few precautions, either." He pulled out a carcass. "I _also_ wouldn't be who I am today if I hadn't prepared some food ahead of time."

The sound of the opening crate stirred his dragon awake _and_ reminded me of a question I hadn't had the chance to ask before now. "By the way, _I've_ been meaning to ask _you_ something, too. Are rabbits his favorite food?"

Dagur rolled his eyes as he tossed one in the air. "I wonder how you figured that one out."

His dragon gave me a near-unnoticeable bow, blending it with the landing after catching the snack, then settled back down in his sunbath.

"How do you keep them so fresh?" I asked, not catching any traces of rot from the carcass or the crate, which still has me just as confused as earlier.

Dagur raised an eyebrow. "Define 'fresh'."

"I, uh, remember something about raiding dragons staying away from food that's too old," I added, mostly to hide the fact that I could smell them from here.

(Thankfully) satisfied, Dagur's skeptical look twisted into a grin, bringing back the crazy attitude that I'm much more comfortable with.

Hm. That's another thing I never thought I'd think.

"It's the Berserker's Battle Batch of Bunnies, Brother!" he shouted, falling into another fit of laughter that lasted way too long. Wiping a tear from his eye, he stood up straight again. "Ah, that name gets me every time! It's a centuries-old recipe that we used during our early conquests. Before each battle, every Berserker Battalion would bake and batter a bunch of 'em to keep their Skrills in line. Good thing we kept the invention around."

" _Speaking_ of inventions," I said, now completely distracted, "I was wondering if I could take a closer look at your dragon. There are a few things I've been meaning to check out, and I think now would be the perfect time to do it." Looking at the Dragon of the Sun, I nodded when I saw He had just passed halfway to high noon, then turned back to a now-curious Dagur.

"What's gotten into _you_ all of a sudden?" he asked, probably noticing my mood swing.

"Inventions are kind of my thing," I said, smiling and bringing my hand behind my neck (which I have to stop doing).

"Really?" he asked, skepticism written all over his face.

"Well, yeah. I invented this leg," I said, gesturing down at my foot. "I invented the bola machine I used to shoot down the Night Fury, for all the good it did me."

His eyes widened as he remembered _that_ little detail.

Luckily, I practiced saying 'shoot down the Night Fury' yesterday, so my habit with dragon names was shut down this time thanks to muscle memory. Well, organ memory. Vocal cords are an organ, right? I shook my head so I could focus again. "I also invented most of the archipelagos' supply of spyglasses, from what Johann told me."

Still somewhat skeptical, Dagur raised an eyebrow and pulled out the device in question. "Like this?"

This time, I wasn't surprised by what he had in his pocket – most Vikings-in-command, especially at sea, have one. "Yeah. Most of them are pretty old by now, so I might have to make a few more to fund some projects. Oh, and I also invented the Miniature Mobile Kill Ring, for all the good _that_ did me. Actually, Gobber told me you all call them dragon wagons."

"That was _you_?!" he gasped, eyes widening even further than the first time.

"Well, they weren't built until well _after_ I shot the down the Night Fury and everyone thought I was dead, but yeah. Gobber didn't stick to the designs, though. There should be more metal on them than there is."

He looked like he was having a hard time digesting this. " _No wonder_ the Nightmare ones didn't work at first!"

I chuckled a bit. "Yeah, I imagine they would've caused problems even for my original designs." I lost all my amusement when I realized the implication. "Wait, you _used_ them?!"

"Not much…" he slowly answered, giving me that piercing look again.

I _really_ need to measure my reactions. Well, there was really only one thing to say after that. "Define 'much'."

And the grin returns. "We only used them to catch the dragons we sent to Berk a few months ago. We went through three or four trying to get a Nightmare, and we figured it was too much trouble trying to capture dragons after you guys were through paying for the ones we _did_ catch. I'm not sure if Johann gave the designs to anyone else, though. Knowing him, I wouldn't be surprised if there were dragon wagons all over the archipelago by now."

I sighed, making a mental note to find out what Johann _doesn't_ know later. For now, I settled for another neutral answer. "That _does_ sound like Johann."

"So what exactly do you plan on 'inventing'?" Dagur asked, reminding me why we were even talking about my inventions in the first place. "Some kind of weapon that uses lightning?"

"I don't know yet," I half-lied, just so I wouldn't lose him right away. "Now that you mention it, a lightning-hammer _does_ sound pretty cool," (his eyes widened at that idea), "but I think that's too ambitious for now. I was thinking more along the lines of a lightning-proof saddle. That harness doesn't look very comfortable." I gestured at the ropes around his dragon's neck for emphasis.

It didn't look like the thought had ever occurred to Dagur, but he was quick on the uptake, especially after the Sk- the _dragon_ jumped to his feet and joined the conversation (even though I could hardly tell what he was saying).

Dagur looked like he understood what his dragon wanted to be asked. "So… _is_ it comfortable?"

I smiled when I saw how much more 'comfortable' _he_ was with talking to his friend, who shrugged and shook his head. My smile widened and I decided to take a risk and translate. "I think you should take that as 'I can deal with it, but not really'."

Dagur gave me an impressed look before nodding and turning back to his dragon. "So, do you think a saddle would be better?"

The Skrill – no, the _dragon_! Bad Hiccup! – tilted its head at the question.

At that moment, I remembered something similar happening with Toothless a week ago, and took another risk without really thinking. "Maybe he doesn't know what 'saddle' means."

"Hmm…"

 _Please don't notice please don't notice please don't notice_

"A saddle would be something that I can use to ride your back instead of hang from your head," he explained.

I let out a relieved sigh when Dagur _didn't_ noticed anything that time, too distracted by his make-shift conversation, which I can completely understand. There's only so much I should try to get away with. It's a miracle he isn't very suspicious yet, and it'd be best if I kept it that way, so I decided to stop helping. He needs to do this on his own anyway.

Dagur pressed on. "Hiccup thinks he can make one that'll keep me safe from your lightning."

His dragon looked _very_ happy about the idea, bobbing its head up and down and letting out a few happy chirps that reminded me yet again of when Two-Walkers say 'yes'.

Realizing that he had said 'yes' earlier this morning (and feeling all smart about it) almost gave me away the first time, but since I'd been blessed with the task of convincing the most skeptical Viking on Earth that dragons could talk, the universe decided to be more forgiving of that slip-up.

Still, it's not like knowing the exact word mattered in this case. The excited dragon in front of me was pretty good at using body language by now, and the excited Dagur in front of me looked just as happy, only in his case, it was probably more about his first successful human-dragon conversation than the saddle itself.

He turned to me the moment he had his answer. "Well, you think you can make one?"

Or maybe it _was_ about the saddle. Pulling my mind away from their conversation and back to something that'll excite me _even more_ (which is saying something), I raised a finger to slow him down. "First I need to find out what his lightning will and won't affect."

Clear images of trees getting struck during lightning storms flashed through my head. It must have been during the summer, considering just how clear they were. Maybe I should start cataloging my memories so they're easier to deal with, and so I won't have any more surprises later.

Thankfully, Dagur interrupted that tiresome line of thought. "Well, metal is out of the question then. For the saddle, anyway."

"Why's that?" I asked, now realizing he would know a lot more about lightning than most Vikings.

"It attracts lightning, and I think it stores it somehow, just like he does." He gestured at his dragon, who nodded in agreement. "It also gets _really_ hot in the process. That's why I stopped wearing my helmet all the time. Flying so high up in the air, wearing metal in storm clouds – and on a Skrill, too – sounds like a disaster waiting to happen."

Note to self: Do _not_ fly Toothless during storms. Or fight Dagur's dragon.

"Okay, so no metal. Anything else I should avoid?" I asked, now feeling just as excited as I've seen Fishlegs gets sometimes. I _always_ love learning about things like this.

Dagur didn't seem to mind my enthusiasm. "Not really," he said, about to move on before catching himself. "Oh! There _is_ one other material that does some of the things that metal does, just not as much, but I don't think it matters either way."

"Why not?"

"Because you can't make a saddle out of water."

"Ah," I noted, just before another detail sprung up and sidetracked me yet again. "That reminds me! Why didn't the bucket of water extinguish him?"

I still remember the time _I_ was extinguished, and I was seriously afraid his dragon would go berserk when the water hit his head. 'Losing your soul', as my nest-mates put it, is _not_ fun. It looks like we got lucky in more ways than one today. Yet another reason _not_ to do any more reckless pranks.

Dagur gave me an evil grin. "He doesn't use fire, so he can't be 'extinguished'. Most dragons have to ignite their fire somehow, and that's what we 'extinguish'. With Skrills, it's _all_ ignition, so if you want to extinguish _them_ , it's all or nothing. Sure, he can't use lightning if he's _completely_ submerged in water, but Skrills _live_ in storm clouds, so a small bucket won't do anything to them. That's why _nothing_ matches a Skrill in battle. _Especially_ on dry land."

I accidentally scoffed at the claim, and at Dagur's raised eyebrow, I saw my mistake. Since I can't exactly just come out and say 'you've never seen Shadow-Blenders in battle', I settled for something Dagur could understand: skepticism. "Don't be too sure. You never know what's out there."

"Yeah, whatever," he dismissed, rolling his eyes. "There's only _one_ thing, I think, that could beat a Skrill in battle, and it doesn't have to do with size or strength. Well, I guess it _kind of_ does, but that's not what made it so deadly."

It's a good thing he said that; I'd almost forgotten about the _Queen's_ battle strength. It was also a good thing that I remembered how no Vikings outside of Berk should know about her. "And what would 'it' be?"

He shrugged. "'It' isn't around anymore. At least 'it' hasn't been for a long time. And 'it' never visited our mainland, so there's no way to tell if my Skrill would've been stronger. Anyway, I think that's 'it' for the things we should _avoid_ adding to the saddle. I have a few ideas about the materials we could use, but I don't think they're exactly what we need."

 _That_ might have been one of the smoothest deflections ever, making this the _second_ time he's avoided telling me about the one thing he's actually afraid of. At least now it has a name: the most powerful thing in the archipelagos. For now, my damn curiosity about lightning kept me from looking into it. "Materials like…?"

"Well," he started, "anything that doesn't act like metal or water gets charred or burned, it's just a matter of how much. You should avoid cloth and fur, but wood and leather are pretty resistant if they don't take a direct blast, so you could probably use a bit of both. Stone would be best, but I don't think that would be _more_ comfortable than ropes, and it'd weigh too much. Oh, and the ropes burn easily if they're not attached at the right places, so I'm not sure how good those would be, either."

I raised my finger again while I organized my thoughts. After about ten seconds, I had all the pieces in place but one. "Alright… wood or possibly stone for the hard parts, leather on the inside if I can make it waterproof, and _maybe_ ropes to keep you from falling off. Now all that's left is the main ingredient." I paused again, thinking through all the materials I've used in the forge that we _didn't_ just finish exhausting, before a special item flashed through my mind. "I have an idea," I said after a few more seconds of consideration, "but I don't know if it'll work or not. It's pretty much a shot in the dark."

Dagur shrugged. "I'm all for shooting things in the dark. Go for it."

"Stay here, I'll be right back!" I shouted behind my shoulder, dashing down the gangplank and over to my ship. Taking note of Gorge's snoring when I made it to the hold, I rushed to my gear as quickly as I could and began tearing it apart until I found my riding equipment. I pulled it out, set it in front of me, then carefully detached one of the two special 'ropes' that keep me tethered to Toothless' saddle during flight.

Three days ago I had to bring the rope, and Toothless along with it, into the forge when the metal part got stuck. Even with an impatient dragon constantly asking me if I was done, I managed to design around that problem that same night, making it less of a hassle to remove and fix. Of course, that led to the whole falling incident, but a solo-flying tail should fix that, too.

I shook my head when the moldy scents got to me and I remembered why I was even in this smelly hold in the first place. Using one hand to hold the tether and the other to climb the ladder and open the latch, I rushed up and onto my deck, then over to the other ship again.

Dagur raised an eyebrow at the rope when I made it back to his deck. "And what's that?"

Panting, I held it out so he and his dragon could see it better. "Something from Trader Johann. It's pretty stretchy and works _really_ well as a rope. If it weren't so rare, I would use it more. Johann called it 'rubber'."

Dagur's face lit up in excitement. "Ooohhh! That's one of our trading islands' biggest exports! I have some of it in my skivvies. It's glorious!"

Okay, I was _not_ expecting that. Just like Dagur said, doing the things people don't expect _really_ gets to them, so it's more his fault than mine that I couldn't stop laughing, at least until he 'helped' me with _that_ too.

A grinning Dagur took the rope from my hands. "So, you think this'll work?"

Trying to ignore the instincts telling me to grab it back and snap at him, I took one last calming breath before responding. "It might, but we have to be careful. That's all the rubber I've got, and I kind of need it back when we're done."

Dagur looked at the tether for a few seconds with a thoughtful expression, then tossed it back to me and went down to his own hold. He didn't take long to come back up with a large _block_ of rubber that he promptly set on the deck. He must have noticed my wide eyes, because he gave a short explanation. "The stuff comes from trees, you know. Trader Johann said that he's only ever seen 'rubber trees' on _one_ island, out of all the ones he visited, and that island just so happens to be one of ours, so we have a bunch of the stuff. I just told my father not to sell much so we can keep the price high."

"That's evil."

"That's business. Now stand back."

Following his instructions and his footsteps, I took ten steps away from the test zone, but by the time I was next to Dagur, the old self-defense instincts kicked in again, telling me to put something other than distance between myself and the experiment (like some kind of wall), especially now that I know how metal attracts lightning. Dagur didn't seem to think it would be a problem, so I had to settle for asking a question that would hopefully calm my nerves. "Is it dangerous to be this close to a full powered lightning blast?"

Dagur shook his head. "Not unless you're the target. Skrill lightning isn't as strong as actual lightning. Besides, we aren't starting at full power."

"Then where _are_ we starting?"

"Half power." He turned to his dragon and nodded. "Start us off easy."

Nodding and giving the rubber a hesitant sniff, the Sk- the _dragon_ channeled a decent amount of lightning (from what looked to be his stomach) for about two seconds, then targeted the block. Eyes narrowed in concentration, he released a perfectly-aimed shot that was about as powerful as the ones he'd been using during our prank. When the white stream of light was gone, it was replaced by a gray stream of smoke, rising in a circle on the deck and completely hiding the block from view.

Dagur nodded, picked up a bucket of water, and doused the area, clearing the smoke and putting out any fire. We were _all_ surprised at what we saw after he did.

The rubber itself showed no signs of damage, and it looked like the shot was mostly blocked by the block, though not entirely. The charred planks below must have been the source of the smoke.

Picking up the rubber after deciding it was safe (and leaving behind a cool outline on the deck), Dagur shared a promising observation. "It's still cold."

"Well _that's_ a good sign."

"I guess, but a big enough rock would have done the same. Now for full power…"

I raised an eyebrow as he walked over to the railing that held the ropes keeping the ship bound to the pier.

He untied a rope that looked slightly less important than the rest and used it to suspended the block in the air, talking while he did. "I've lost count of how many times I've done this next test, since it's so cool to watch. Nothing but metal makes it through without getting burned to a crisp." When he was finished tying the knot, he took a few steps back and addressed 'the second most deadly thing in the archipelagos'. In that moment, his voice held the same power and authority that I'm only used to hearing from my father. "Don't hold back this time."

Nodding, the dragon snorted, dragged his feet along the deck one at a time like a wild boar ready to charge, and channeled a _lot_ of lightning through his body – it took almost ten seconds for him to finish. He must have _really_ been holding back until now, even during the prank, because his head was practically glowing by the time he was ready.

Ah hah! So _that's_ how he does it! I was _wondering_ how this species controlled the strength of their shots, a detail that's had me stumped ever since the prank. This one in particular was eating at me because every shot type up until now has been fairly self-explanatory, even before I started looking into them. Flame-Skins use their saliva to power their shots – the more saliva, the fiercer the fire; Hum-Wings eat rocks and melt them into lava – the bigger the rock, the more they can make; Two-Heads, Two-Walkers, and Little-Biters all use gas, in one way or another, as do Shadow-Blenders – in my case, if I wanted to make my blasts more powerful _after_ filtering gas, I'd have to add magic into the mix and suffer a sore throat, or find a convenient cloud of Two-Head gas.

Just like the others, with _this_ dragon species (and I'm going to have to find out the actual name of it the second I get back; avoiding the term 'Skrill' isn't fun anymore, and it's getting to the point where I might just go ahead and _stop_ avoiding it for convenience's sake), the process is pretty simple once you see what's going on. They operate a lot like Hum-Wings, gathering and storing a set amount of their shots in their furnace, and then using them later. It looks like Skrills (that's me giving up) absorb lightning after flying through storm clouds, then channel and use that lightning whenever they please, at whatever strength they please, to a certain limit. Right now, Dagur wants his dragon to push those limits.

I braced myself for the heat wave that comes along with every powerful dragon shot, but after it began, I couldn't feel any warmth at all. Even as the destructive stream reached peak strength, I could only feel the same cold breeze as before. I guess lightning is like concentrated fire, burning what it strikes and nothing else. Now I see why Dagur wasn't worried. After a few seconds, the white light and noise dimmed, then vanished, followed by a soft _thud_. Now on the deck and _still_ looking completely unscathed, apart from a cool-looking pattern of ash where the rope had been, sat the block, motionless and char-free. To say that the suspending loop had been burned would be an understatement; a few singed and frayed strands were all that was left of it.

Dagur walked over, put his hand above the block for a second, then picked it up again. "It's still cold."

"I think we just found your saddle," I said, smiling.

Dagur looked like he was about to agree, but his Skrill certainly didn't.

Glaring at the block, the angry dragon grabbed it from Dagur's hand and jumped into the sky, flying toward some storm clouds off in the distance with determination radiating from every scale on his body. A minute after he was out of sight, cracks of light began striking at one point in the sky, lighting up the dark and distant clouds and sending thunder our way.

Up until now, the Skrill's lightning had never been that loud – I bet that means he can redirect lightning, or at least direct it at himself and whatever he's holding, when he's close to the source.

After a grand finale of five consecutive bolts, the flurry of light and sound abruptly stopped, and after a few minutes, a very exhausted dragon flew clumsily back to the ship, the block still in one of its claws as it dropped onto the deck and collapsed.

Dagur walked over, took the block, and gave it a good glare now that his dragon no longer had the energy to do the same. "It's still cold."

He stopped glaring the moment I reminded him _why_ we were doing this test.

"We _definitely_ just found your saddle."


	17. Chapter 17: Norbert the Nutjob

_**Standard Disclaimer**_ **: This fic is based on the world created by IHHS. It is not the official sequel; you can find Echoed Songs, the** _ **actual**_ **sequel, on Rift-Raft's account. Links are provided on my profile page.**

 **Just a quick note: I've never read the original HTTYD books, so all my knowledge on the other tribes comes from the wiki (which doesn't say much), other fanfictions, and the TV series. That means most of the other chiefs and heirs will probably be OOC to some extent, if they aren't already. From what I've read, Norbert will be the most OOC of them all. Or maybe Bigjob, when I get to him.**

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" _He who pays the piper calls the tune."_

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As soon as I had said it was possibly possible to make a lightning-proof saddle, Dagur wanted me to plan it out, ASAP. I'm not particularly fond of being rushed, but after I called him impatient, he called me a procrastinator, and that was the end of that little argument.

For the most part, I only needed to know the length and width of his torso, for his body harness, and the details of his dragon's neck (surface area, texture, flexibility, that kind of thing) for the saddle itself. Even though I was kind-of expecting it, I'm still amazed at just how closely these details match up to the ones I made of Toothless a week ago, the only difference being all the spikes.

Once everything was recorded, I began making a rough charcoal sketch – the one Dagur had requested, just to get an idea of what to expect. He had me change it _many_ times before he was satisfied with the look, not that I'm complaining. He _is_ paying for it, after all.

The Sun was rising in the sky, still about an hour from high noon by the time we heard another horn sound out from the ocean. The instant we did, Dagur changed his voice and said "Burglars incoming". He's actually pretty good at imitation; I didn't need any context to hear Savage in the loud and _annoying_ rasp. When I told him it'd be _his_ fault that his saddle doesn't fit right if he kept distracting me, I at least managed to get enough peace and quiet to finish.

I'd been making the final adjustments when the Burglars announced their arrival, so I added the finishing touches, giving a relieved sigh when the first stage of the project was done a few minutes later. Getting up from my hands and knees, I brushed the charcoal from my clothes and carefully lifted the sketch to show it to Dagur, who had been keeping his eye on the sea and the Burglars after I told him to stop annoying me. Dagur reluctantly nodded when he saw the finished sketch – we were both too pressed for time to argue about the minor details anymore, which is just _such_ a shame – and two minutes later I was in the "Hooligan Hold" (the name being a courtesy of Gobber), tucking the design safely away with my gear.

As I climbed the ladder back up to the deck, I was reminded of the whole 'draugr' business when my prosthetic missed a step, which _then_ reminded me of the whole 'dragon' business happening on the other deck, so I checked what half of the harbor the Burglars would choose to see if I had time to prepare or not. As luck would have it, they docked next to the Meatheads. Another "yes, I'm alive, but wait till later" discussion is going to be hard enough as it is. At least now we don't have to add "ignore Dagur's extinct dragon" to the mix.

Dagur and I were just beginning to walk down our respective gangplanks for the "normal approach" when a loud whistle, much closer than the horn had been, stopped us before we could get any closer to the island. Well, stopped _me_ , anyway.

Dagur must not have been as surprised as I was to see the raft that had just docked across from where I was standing, because he was already on the retreat, barely turning his head over his shoulder as he sprinted away. "I'll handle the Burglars; you take the Nutjob!"

Well, isn't that just dandy? Who needs to make decisions when you have Dagur around? He makes them for you!

"Oh well," I said out loud, sighing away as much of my annoyance as I could. Even if I had the choice, I'd much rather deal with Norbert the Nutjob, Chief of the Hysteric Tribe, renowned for his paranoia and insanity (and _definitely_ the only Viking who'd be crazy enough to _willingly_ cross the ocean _alone_ on a thing like _that_ ), than a bunch of angry, battle-hardened women who would probably remind me too much of Astrid. Plus, I won't have to be badgered by as many prying eyes and questions this way, from the looks of it.

A hooked staff, decorated with strange markings and even stranger holes, gripped the planks of the docks, right before a _very_ tall and _very_ old man used it to hoist himself up. If it weren't for the clean shave, relative lack of body odor (which to anybody else, and especially any Vikings, would smell like a _complete_ lack of body odor), and yellow Hysteric-Chief outfit, he could have passed for Mildew back on Berk. Well, maybe. I haven't seen Mildew in over a year, so my memory might be a bit off.

After he landed on the planks, he unhooked his staff from the boards and swung it around to his side, planting it by his feet. From he way he was standing, I could tell he didn't need it to support his weight. It was strange to see someone so old move with such agility, and even stranger when he began to talk in a voice that didn't sound weak or aged at all. His eyes were shining with interest, just like our village elder's, when they met mine.

"My, my, my! What have we here?  
A little lad, without foe or fear?"

Well, that's _one_ way to make an entrance.

"Yup, that's me," I deadpanned. "Hiccup the Fearless."

I don't think he caught the sarcasm. "Perhaps a change brought about by a raid?"

"Ummm… no?"

His eyebrows rose in surprise. "Surely _something_ happened in the last decade?"

"Define 'something'."

He scratched his chin with his free hand, his wrinkles becoming a lot more visible as his eyes went distant.

"I remember a troubled lad, lost and alone,  
stumbling among us without muscle or bone.  
Knowing his place and kicking at stone…"

His eyes refocused when he trailed off, and he looked back to me with a satisfied smile.

"Remarkable to see how much you've grown."

"You call _this_ grown?" I asked, accompanied by the usual gesturing, more out of habit than anything else.

"Very strange indeed, this new behavior.  
I didn't think we'd meet so soon, young… ah, blast it all!"

"Ah… Um… Huh?" That was my last attempt to make sense of this guy, in literal speechless form.

"Rhymes are quite the tricky prospect, you know. Too amusing to drop, too tiresome to maintain. That one was on the tip of my tongue, too. Ah well. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance after all these years, young Hooligan."

"Um… likewise." I just stared at him until I realized he was waiting for me to add more. "You're not, uh, surprised that I'm here? You didn't hear the rumors?"

He dismissed my questions with a wave of his staff. "Oh, I heard all the rumors." Then he paused, glanced at the island, and looked back at me with narrowed eyes. " _All_ the rumors."

"What… sort of rumors?" I asked, trying to keep the nerves out of my voice.

"Oh, the usual sort. The depressing, the tragic, the ironic, the hilarious, the serious – my village has quite the rumor mill, mind you – and each and every one of them was completely absurd. 'Surprise' is hard to come by when folk are _particularly_ fond of using _dragon magic_ to make up just about anything they please. Your father's ambiguity didn't help, either. If I wasn't surprised at the tale of 'Hiccup the Ruthless Sorcerer, who bathed in dragon blood to access their magic and seek revenge on all who had called him weak,' then I won't be surprised at 'Hiccup the survivor, who wasn't as dead as we thought.' And speaking of surprises, where's your friend?" he asked, looking all around as if he'd see something he had missed. "I was under the impression-"

"Oh, he just went to meet the Burglars," I cut him off, not eager to hear any _more_ of his impressions.

He seemed a lot less interested at my response. "Uh-huh."

"Where's the rest of your crew? And your own heir?" I asked. Come to think of it, I probably should have asked that in the first place. Diplomacy practice, and all that.

The second I brought the conversation to him instead of me, his entire demeanor changed, eyes losing all their shine. His body began trembling and he spoke in a higher-pitched voice when he responded. "Crew? _Heir?_ Why would I risk bringing _them_? Too dangerous, I said! Never know when a wild Flame-Skin might strike."

I almost choked on my own saliva when he said that, and just barely managed to avoid falling into a coughing fit. "Flame-Skin?"

He waved his staff in front of him again. "Oh, just the name I made up for the, uh, well, _you_ know…" He leaned in close as he mouthed Monstrous Nightmare. "Wouldn't want to use their _real_ names, after all. Bad luck."

Not knowing how to respond to _that_ convoluted claim, I fell back on the 'curious kid' routine and I pressed him for details, even if it meant I'd probably have to rile him up even more. "So… is that why you use that raft? To keep the dragons away?"

His eyes widened and he got, for lack of a better word, hysteric. "Oh, no no no! I use this to keep the _spirits_ away! Don't got a clue why it works, I just know that it does. I won't let those wolves get me a second time!"

This time I did choke. "W-wolves?"

"Bloody things won't leave me alone." Without warning, he turned and shook a fist at the island. "YOU HEAR ME?! If I see you take _one_ step out of those trees, I'm touching my raft!"

I instantly turned to where he was shouting, only to see the same sight I've always seen: a dense tree line that was _definitely_ clear of spirit wolves. I wasn't the only one to check, either.

The-Skrill-that-has-a-different-species-name must have heard Norbert's shouting, because a few annoyed and confused chirps came from the deck of the only ship that was closer to the island than we were. Even though personal experience was enough to give me a good guess at what he might be complaining about (rudely interrupted sunbaths have been the cause of many arguments and brawls), I still couldn't understand much of it. I caught the word "what" in a questioning tone, but that's about it.

Norbert, on the other hand, must be the expert on extinct dragons, because he answered without hesitation. "Those two, of course!" he exclaimed, pointing at the forest. "Sorry, by the way."

A few even more confused, but less annoyed chirps later, and I was (thankfully) all but forgotten by the Nutjob.

"Oh absolutely!" he asserted, before making some very strange grunts and chirps himself.

I couldn't tell if he was actually speaking the language, or if he was just messing with me. Either way, in a few short minutes he managed to go from just plain nutty to either completely insane or an all-knowing genius. Hopefully it's not a combination of both.

Norbert interrupted himself mid-chirp after a glance at the Sun. "Would you look at that? It's almost high noon!"

I nodded when he looked at me expectantly, for once not _at all_ against the idea of going back to the usual type of Vikings. "I think we should start walking, then. My dad might get angry if I'm late."

"We wouldn't want that, would we?" he asked, a hint of that former twinkle coming back to his eyes.

 _Okay, that's just one coincidence too many._

My mind made up, I kept my mouth shut and my head down, ignoring the Hysteric chief as we made our way to the island.


	18. Chapter 18: Big-Boobied Bertha

_**Standard Disclaimer**_ **: This fic is based on the world created by IHHS. It is not the official sequel; you can find Echoed Songs, the** _ **actual**_ **sequel, on Rift-Raft's account. Links are provided on my profile page.**

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The Burglar ship was just as sleek and sturdy as the day it visited our mainland last winter. Not a single plank was burned or dented anywhere on the boat, telling me two things right away: they didn't bring it on any nest searches – which, considering it's one of their best ships, would mean they didn't _go_ on any nest searches – and their mainland didn't suffer any post-winter raids from that brown Night Fury. Ever since Mogadon led the first search for the nest after the ice unfroze, the number of undamaged, top-notch ships in the archipelagos has been on the decline, at least until two months ago. From what I've seen, there are only a few places you can still find pristine vessels: the mainland of each tribe, a few lucky islands, and Trader Johann.

As I walked down the pier and past the Meathead ship, which had _plenty_ of burned, broken, and now-repaired planks, I sent a quick prayer of thanks to the Gods. The moment I'd heard the Burglar horn a few minutes ago, I started looking for any excuse to greet them without having Hiccup tag along, and I thought I was out of luck until Norbert showed up. Nothing against him, but the plan I've been thinking up for the past hour doesn't call for draugrs or dragons, no matter how I tried to spin it.

Now that everything about my approach is seemingly "normal", I _should_ be able to get a few questions answered before the Burglars learn about my Skrill and Hiccup (in that order, of course). I want to see _exactly_ what's going on with that warning, and although I _definitely_ want to see their faces when I get to the _fun_ news, I've learned from experience that planning and finesse are the two best ways to get _everything_ you want. Only idiots settle for less when they have the chance to prepare.

Their gangplank dropped, and the game was on.

Camicazi was the first from the ship, her blonde hair and blue eyes just as bright and lively as they'd been _before_ last winter. She was wearing more than one set of furs, but they weren't very big or heavy-looking, with black leggings and fur-trimmed boots to complete the outfit. It's weird seeing her without her usual sword hilt, or without a bola dangling from her belt, or without any weapons in general. Some people are more affected by that rule than others. She mostly ignored me as she followed orders to tie down the ship, but I did catch a quick glance and a brief smile right before her mother took to the gangplank.

Unlike Camicazi, Big-Boobied Bertha hasn't changed at all since the last time I saw her. That piercing stare is _just_ as cold and hard as it was last winter (which is still weird/cool coming from her), with icy blue eyes sunken deep in their sockets and many wrinkles and bags decorating the face around them. Her lips were set in a firm frown, which went well with her mostly-black outfit. _She_ had no enthusiasm whatsoever, especially not when she got around to addressing me.

"Dagur." There was no anger, no interest, and no emotion. Only acknowledgement.

"Chief," I returned with as much respect as I could manage to give. "I'm glad to see you could make it-"

"Don't." The interruption was swift and resolute. "Just… don't. I'm runnin' late, it's almost high noon, and I don't have time for lies, especially from _you_."

So much for subtlety. I had to _slightly_ adjust my own features from mild curiosity to formal neutrality as I once again got _that_ look from a Viking chief. I forgot how good she'd gotten at 'playing the game'. Not many Berserkers saw through her act when she arrived at our mainland – my father certainly didn't – and even those that did wouldn't have refused to help her. The victim act is powerful that way. Well, I guess it wasn't _entirely_ an act, but she certainly had a plan to get just about everything she needed, and the finesse to carry out that plan, which means I now need to adjust _my_ plan. Again. How Stoick must have had to push through it and deny her any aid is beyond me.

I sighed loud enough for her to hear. "I _wasn't_ lying, but I'll cut to the chase. The chief of the Meatheads gave me the impression that you were still in mourning. Is that true?"

Her gaze hardened even further as calculation was added to the mix of cold and caution. "For my brother, yes."

I _didn't_ raise an eyebrow. Neutrality is my best friend right now, and even curiosity could be taken as rude. "Why not both?" I asked, jumping straight to the implication.

"My husband was _fortunate_ -" (she spat that word out with particular malice) "enough to have died in one piece. He received a proper funeral, along with the others, a few days after the raid. My brother was not so lucky. Even less that a piece was carried off. Even less that his head and heart were in that piece."

I simply nodded. Most people would have probably said something along the lines of being sorry for her loss at this point. I knew she'd rather not hear _that_ tired old formality, especially not from me, so I settled for something more… _me_. "I might have heard some rumors about the dragon that carried him off, after you told us the species, if you're interested."

"We _all_ heard those rumors," she said. "Doesn't mean that Hel-spawn was the one that did it."

"I guess you're right," I shrugged, still neutral. Now for the _really_ important question. "And… not to be rude, but I guess that means you haven't remembered the color yet?"

"No," she said, more frustration seeping into her voice. "If I'd known how important that detail would be, I would have looked harder."

I nodded again, but didn't press her on _that_ clear source of frustration, no matter how much I wanted to. I got the only answer I'd get, so I moved on. "Do you know what you're going to do about the funeral-"

" _Enough_ with the doom and gloom already!" Camicazi, who was done with the ropes and apparently fed up with both of us, stomped over in hot frustration. "Isn't there anything _else_ to talk about?"

Bertha's hard features melted at the sound of her daughter's voice, and she gave an apologetic smile to the Burglar heir, who was now standing by her side. "You're right, dear. Your mother just gets caught up in the past sometimes." The two had some kind of touchy-feely moment that I'd rather not describe, at least up until the point where Bertha's features hardened again. "No thanks to _him_."

I tweaked my approach one last time after I got a dual glare, and shrugged. "I was just making sure you could handle the news, is all."

"News?" two voices asked, one eager and excited, the other skeptical and wary.

I kept my own voice calm and casual as I counted off on my fingers. "One case of un-extinction, one case of resurrection, the discovery of the century, or the prank of the century; take your pick. The first two help in understanding the last two…" I trailed off as I glance at the sun and remembered we didn't have all day. "But we only have time for one," I said, remembering how limitations can be fun, too.

Bertha, unfazed by the range of topics (probably because _I_ was the one who introduced them), sighed and nodded. "And I'm guessin' we'll be hearin' about our choice on the way to the ceremony?"

"Not if you don't mind being late-"

"The prank!" Camicazi shouted, interrupting my weak attempt to miss out on some of that boring tradition. She must have made up her mind while her mother was probing.

"Alright," I shrugged, not minding how I was cut off. Again, genuine enthusiasm never bothered me.

"Cami…" her mother hesitantly began, but her daughter didn't let her get any further.

"It sounds like it'll be dumb, and fun, and that's all I care about. That's all we _should_ care about, at least right now."

Her mother obviously wanted to hear about the actual news, but I was silently rooting for Cami to come out on top of this little argument. I've seen her instincts in action before, in a sporting fight last gather. She always made exactly the right decisions before even _she_ knew what she was doing. Or at least that's how she made it look. It's only natural she chose the 'news' that indirectly involves the important stuff _and_ gets her up to speed with the whole Meathead situation.

After a few seconds of silent staring, her mother gave in. "You're right dear. I keep forgetting." She sighed again, and motioned for me to begin. "Lead the way."

I couldn't keep the anticipation from reaching the corners of my lips, but that's okay. It's completely natural to be eager about something like this, so I stopped controlling my face as I took my first step and spoke my first word.

"It all began _two whole hours_ ago, when the Meatheads announce their arrival. We Berserkers got here yesterday, and I'd been planning a big surprise for my fellow archipelago-dwellers at the time… but there was nobody here. My plans got delayed, but only slightly! With a little help and a little waiting, they were ready for action again this morning. The sun was rising, my Skrill was chirping-"

" _Skrill?!_ " they both predictably interrupted.

I stopped walking, turned around on the final plank of the pier, and gave the answer I'd already prepared. "You chose option four, not option one. Do you want me to continue, or should I stop now?"

Even though her mother looked like she was about to protest, Camicazi eagerly shook her head. " _No!_ Keep goin'!"

I felt my grin widen, ignored Bertha's huff, and continued walking. "The sun was shining, my Skrill was chirping – harnessed and ready to help me give the Meatheads a little surprise before they docked – and Hiccup was on his back-"

" _HICCUP?!"_ they both predictably shouted.

Even though I'd seen that one coming too, anticipation isn't always enough to physically prepare for sudden noise. I stopped again, turned around on the now-dirt path, and repeated my response. I let a small amount of annoyance (mostly at myself for not bracing enough) creep into my voice this time. "You chose option four, _not_ option two. You chose the prank, not the premise. Do you want me to continue, or should I stop now?"

Bertha looked _way_ more ready to protest this time, but her daughter beat her to it once again. " _NO!_ Keep goin'!"

My grin widened even more, and I continued walking again. "The sun was shining, my Skrill was chirping, harnessed and ready to give the Meatheads a small surprise before they docked, and Hiccup was on his back, ready to help me give the Meatheads _more_ than a small surprise before they docked…"

A few short minutes later, I finished bringing my notoriety right back where it belongs. And just in time for the opening ceremony. Lucky me.


	19. Chapter 19: Preparations

Gods, the opening ceremony is _so_ BORING. I've only been to _one_ of these snooze-fests before, and I'd _still_ rather be zapped by my own Skrill if I had the choice.

The Meathead kicked it off with a prayer of thanks to Odin, which was decent enough, but everything went downhill from there, just like the last time.

Once the prayer was over, the chiefs formed a line - it didn't really matter who stood where so long as Mogadon went last. Then they started their slow march. Then, one-by-one, they made their _slow_ way to Odin's statue. Then they _slowly_ lowered themselves to bow and/or pray. And _then_ , it got even _better_ , and _totally_ not boring: they stood still on the stage and waited for the next chief to do the _exact same thing_. Norbert's the only one who stood out. He chose to show _his_ respects to the forest instead of the statues because of course he did. Why I thought _he'd_ follow the rules is beyond me…

Come to think of it, why do _I_ still follow the rules? If Norbert can get away with his "walking stick", I bet _I_ could get away with a few "letter openers". Probably. Maybe.

Anyway, it felt like hours had passed by the time Mogadon took the stage. He gave a short bow to the other chiefs, turned around, and started preaching all in six motions. He's not the most fluid of people. Especially when he's forcing himself to be "formal" and "chiefly".

And the speech itself...

"-which's why international harmony's so important at times like-"

Ugh. _International Harmony_. Whatever. The sentiment is 'nice' and all, but it never works like that in real life. Different people, different traditions, different values. They _collide_. They don't 'harmonize'.

"-and charitable, which I hope-"

Bah! "Charity" is just another word for weak people getting what they want without offering anything in return.

"-but not least, please remember-"

And "Please" is just another word that _helps_ weak people get what they want without offering anything in return. It makes me sick just thinking about it.

"That's all."

And what do you know, it's done already. Not like I should expect more from _this_ tame, inoffensive, and _boring_ event. And just to prove my point, the other chiefs all gave small, dumb speeches of their own, with Stoick's the best and my father's the worst. No surprises there.

By the end of it, a lot of words came out of people's mouths but nobody said anything worth remembering, let alone _done_ anything worth remembering. This opening ceremony... no, politics in general tends to work like that, which is why I hate it, which is why I'll be having a guy to do all that stuff for me when I take my father's place. Savage should be good for a while, but after that…

Damn. I just realized how much I ramble when I'm bored. Whatever.

Next up is pretty much the same thing, only with the heirs _without_ the speeches, thank Gods. Oh, and it's Thor who gets the reverence this time around. I, of course, snuck my bow to Loki. Hiccup didn't seem too enthusiastic about bowing to Thor either. Actually, of the three heirs who had to do it, myself included, Camicazi's the only one who didn't mind. Finally, last and least, Thuggory's bow to the three of us (matching up with that whole 'valuing allies' thing, at least in theory) was even less enthusiastic than Hiccup's, which is saying something. That _might_ have had something to do with our prank. Not that I really care.

Mogadon's voice _finally_ rose above the others' after Thuggory had taken his place on stage. "Alright everyone, now that we can officially begin what we came here to do, I ask that we all head to Odin Hall as soon as possible. I know some of you just got here and still need time to prepare, so I'll start the meeting in one hour. We have a lot of ground to cover, and I think we all want to get back to our villages as soon as possible. If things go smoothly, we could even be able to set sail as early as tomorrow."

Bertha coughed. "I doubt we'll be so lucky." _She_ was just as gruff and blunt as usual, unlike the Meathead. One look at her icy blue eyes was enough to see why. "Unless you've forgotten, now the Berserkers _and_ the Hooligans have a few secrets of their own to share with the rest of us, not to mention whatever it is you Meatheads discovered in the first place."

Norbert sneezed. "Ooohh, I can't wait! I love secrets! So long as they're not _my_ secrets, anyway."

Hmph. Didn't think he had it in him to make sense. For once he said something _vaguely_ right. It _is_ always fun to learn the deepest, darkest secrets of others (and sometimes even the just normal ones). _E_ _specially_ when you get to keep your own dirt under wraps.

"It's not exactly a secret, old man. I was never planning on hiding it. That'd be too boring!"

The Nut looked like he was about to keep the fun going before Mogadon ruined it. "Let's save it for the meeting, people. I'll prepare the Hall so we can start on time. If it's not _too_ much trouble, I'd ask you to keep to yourselves until then."

All the other chiefs nodded in agreement and began moving out to the harbor while Mogadon turned to the Hall.

Typical ruiner-of-fun, that one.

"Alright Dagur, time we get back to the ship and prepare our story."

 _Speaking_ of mood-killers... "No need. I know what I want to say. There's nothing to prepare."

"That wasn't a request, Son."

Great. I didn't realize just how comfortable I'd gotten with _not_ having to deal with this nuisance of a father. I hope he's not planning wasting the entire hour. But knowing him... "How long do you think it'll take?"

"An hour, of course!"

Great.


End file.
